Guardians of Hogwarts
by Soul's Scales
Summary: Peter Quill dreamed of going to Hogwarts. Gamora dreamed of being accepted. Rocket dreamed of being treated normally again. Drax dreamed of being free of his mother's and sister's death. Hermione dreamed of magic. Harry dreamed of finding true friends. Anything can happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry. Guardians and HP crossover
1. Book 1: The Letters

**Well, hi. I'm Soul's Scales, though feel free to call me Scales. ;)**

**So, first of all, I want to blame this entire story and concept on my irritating, if awesome, older sister. She can't write and doesn't have a fanfiction account, so she prompted me into writing it after getting me hooked on the idea of putting the Guardians of the Galaxy (one of the best movies) into Harry Potter's world. She is also working as my beta (so I can blame grammar mistakes on her, hehe).**

**NOTE: I am just entering my second semester of college. I don't have a ton of time to update, so UPDATES WILL BE SLOW. SO SLOW. SO VERY VERY SLOW. Or maybe fast. But I really doubt it'll be fast, so don't bet on having chapters every week or something. I honestly have no idea how fast I'll update. I'll do the best I can.**

**So, without further random speaking, here is the first chapter/introduction of **_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_**! (Title is subject to change…)**

***0*0*0***

_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_

Book 1: The Letters

The tawny brown owl circled lower over the city, following the elusive pull of the mail-carrier spell. This letter's owner was hard to find. Every time the owl had approached the location, the boy had been moved quickly somewhere else. But this time, the owl was the closest it had ever gotten to the boy.

With a quick dive, the owl entered a dirty alley where several figures lingered, smoking, cracking rude jokes, and generally making themselves look like vagabonds. They were staking out the store across the way and were blending in with the lower levels of London's populace.

The owl ignored them. Its focus was solely on the smallest figure, a boy with bright golden hair perched on his head and a small smile on his face.

The group fell quiet as the owl approached and the owl, with a triumphant, if exhausted, hoot, landed in front of the boy and stuck out its leg. Silence permeated the space as the boy reached out and, fumbling, managed to remove the letter from the bird's leg.

Unfolding it with trembling fingers, the boy read quickly, his lips unthinkingly mouthing the words.

"I… I got into Hogwarts." The boy said quietly, a smile growing on his face. "My mum must've paid before she died, 'cause I'M GOING TO HOGWARTS! My tuition's all paid and everythin'!"

The chief of the men raised an eyebrow at the boy and said, "That's good, boy, but you better make up what you miss out on during the summers, you hear?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically and the other men clapped him on the back cheerfully.

He couldn't shake the smile from his face. It had been years since he had even thought of going to Hogwarts. Since his mother had died and the Ravagers had, er, _adopted_ him. Since then, he had run with the underworld of the wizarding world, learning the tricks to steal, manipulate, and slip away into the night without anyone the wiser.

His Hufflepuff mother had always dreamed of him going to Hogwarts. The boy had curled up against her side in the hospital and she would whisper stories of the castle in her faint, rasping voice, and Peter would cling to every word, storing them deep in his mind.

After her death… The boy had dragged stories of Hogwarts from the older Ravagers, from Yondu's ancient stories to Ravagers who had only just graduated the previous year. He had accepted that he would never have the money or a chance to go to Hogwarts. He had a wand already, though he knew only the most basic of spells and could only use them around the older Ravagers.

But now… Now he could go to Hogwarts. He could go to the world that his mother had described, to see the great forest and the teachers who had helped mold his kind, wonderful mother. The boy smiled as he tied his response to the owl, the Ravagers laughing and joking loudly around him.

The owl flew away, a shakily written acceptance held in its claws, leaving behind the beaming visage of young Peter Quill, sitting in the dark alley with the Ravagers.

*0*0*0*

While Peter Quill chatted with his Ravagers, another owl was finally approaching its target. This huge barn owl glided silently through the sky, aiming towards the tiny village that hid within the hills of Northern England. The girl it was following had just moved there the previous day, and the owl was annoyed at having to backtrack to find the letter's recipient.

But, finally, its long trek was almost over. Soon the owl would be able to return to the castle and take a long nap.

The owl slowed its flight, sensing and seeing its target hiding in some trees near the edge of the tiny village. The owl began a loop to circle around to the green-skinned girl and gave a low hoot as he approached.

The girl whirled, a terrified gasp almost escaping her before being swallowed and she, instinctively, shot her hands forward, shoving raw magic at the bird.

The owl froze midair and crashed to the ground, unable to move beyond breathing.

The girl panted, still frozen in panic before she jerked to attention. She rushed forward to the owl, her hands fluttering around the bird uselessly.

"I'm sorry, I don't know how to control it yet. Thank god Ronan isn't around to see this.."

The girl sat back and pushed her reddish hair back from her face, tucking it behind her slightly pointed ears. She closed her eyes and centered herself, reaching for the hidden well of power inside her that she could just reach. With a gentle breathe, she released the hold she had on her magic, and the owl stood shakily.

The owl shook its feathers and proudly stuck out a leg with the letter on it.

The girl's brow furrowed as she opened the letter carefully, preserving the seal the best she could. She knew that symbol, but that couldn't be real.

But it was.

Somehow, she had been accepted to Hogwarts.

She, the half-elven child of Thanos, could go to _Hogwarts_.

She carefully refolded the letter and stared into the distance. She could chose to ignore the letter. To perform the assignments given and continue to grow into the living weapon that Thanos and Ronan wanted her to be. She would be deadly and horrible, and every wizard and witch in the world would fear the name of Gamora.

Or she could defy them. She could abandon this assignment, flee Ronan, and escape into the wilderness. It wasn't too far to Scotland from here, and the wards guarding Hogwarts would be easy to trace to find the castle itself.

She could be free. To maybe even have _friends._

Ronan would kill her for it. Thanos too.

But she would rather die among friends than continue to fight for her enemies.

The girl's face broke into a smile as it hadn't seen in the years since she was ripped from her forest and her people were decimated. She quickly wrote an acceptance and sent off the owl with a final apology.

The girl looked back at the village, her eyes instinctively finding her target, before smiling faintly.

The man was free, just as she now was.

After all, the girl thought as she disappeared into the forest, who knew if Remus Lupin might be able to do something important someday?

*0*0*0*

The great horned owl flew silently through the night, finally approaching her destination. After a long flight, she was almost at the recipient's home. She had been chosen for the continuous communication specifically because of her… familiarity with the recipient.

Curling in her gigantic wings, she gracefully dove into the opening for the owls and skillfully wove between startled healers who tried to catch her as she approached the small room hidden in a corner of the hospital.

The door opened as the noise following the owl increased and a small, furry body looked out. "Come in and hurry up, ya winged rat." The furry raccoon-boy growled, glancing behind the owl with trepidation.

The owl narrowed her eyes before increasing her speed and swishing through the door just as the raccoon boy slammed it closed and leaped to slam the lock close. The door shook as the aggravated healers pounded and yelled insults at "the bloody bird!"

The raccoon boy turned to smirk at the bird, seemingly unworried about the pounding of the healers. Noticing the owl's stare still fixed on the door, he carelessly shrugged his shoulders and said, far too gruffly for a boy of 10, "No one's gettin' in without my say so. I reinforced the lock with some of my own designs." He smirked with a muzzle full of pointy teeth as his black eyes glistened in the sterile light from above.

The owl turned her head and looked down the few inches that separated the boy from her height. He was tiny for a ten year old, and, to all appearances, was a raccoon, though he acted like a human… a very brash human, but human all the same.

The raccoon boy was staring at the owl's leg now, his long tail bushy with excitement and his ears perked forward. "Is tha'…" As the owl stuck her leg out proudly, the boy considered the possibility that he was dreaming. He was almost afraid to believe that after all his hours of reading and all the tests he had gone through over the years (thanks to being the unique sample of an animal hair polyjuice incident that had gone untreated until far too late) that he would actually get to be _free_. To go outside of this damned hospital and try to make a place in the world for him as a _person_ and not just an experiment for the healers of St. Mungos.

The boy had realized in his ninth year on Earth and his sixth year as a raccoon-hybrid-_thing_ that the healers had been unknowingly giving him an escape. Ever since he had come, they had plied him with books to keep him obedient and quiet when the hospital was busy. As a result, the boy had read everything from the basics of magic to the concepts of muggle chemistry (coming from a particularly desperate muggle-born intern).

One good thing to come from his transformation was that his memory had massively improved, where he could remember things he had read almost perfectly.

It was during one of his stints with a particularly dry magical history textbook (he had literally read everything else in the room and had screeched for a half hour straight for new material before getting this chucked at his head), that he had been stopped by a certain page. It was describing a particularly exceptional child being admitted into Hogwarts a year early.

_Admitted to Hogwarts a year early._

He could escape this hellish room and the stupid hospital which didn't believe him human.

Going to Hogwarts had actually slipped his mind. After years of being treated like an interesting lab rat, of having constant tests, he had started to forget who he was. He had once been pure human, short and blond with an older brother who had tried to protect him. After the… incident, he had been disowned and his nanny, feeling immensely guilty, had sent him (quite literally – he had been put in a crate and given to the head healer with an explanation of what had happened) to St. Mungos.

Not one of the healers had ever thought about him still being able to perform magic. The polyjuice potion with the raccoon hairs had twisted his body and his mind, but had not destroyed his core. The raccoon boy had been able to feel the magic still, hidden deep inside.

But, with that damned "Hogwarts, A History" in his claws – _hands_ – he realized that he had let himself forget about the magic humming in him. He had magic. He could go to Hogwarts.

If he still qualified as human, that is.

So he had 'borrowed' an owl from St. Mungos great store of owls and sent out a letter. He had chosen the singular great horned owl to carry his letter, as he had spoken with the tall owl (who had been a donation to the hospital) before, and who was an anomaly just like he was.

And now, after arguing over letter for over a year, the final decision was tied around the great horned owl who was (damn her) still a bit taller than the boy.

The raccoon boy shakily used his claws to sever the rope tying the letter on and unfolded it, exceedingly careful.

A moment of silence.

"I GOT IN, I GOT IN, I'M GETTING' OUT OF THIS BLOODY HELLHOLE, I GOT IN!"

The raccoon boy practically bounced around the room, his tail waving in mad excitement as he enthusiastically jumped up onto one of his many piles of books and found a very dog eared, chewed on pen (like the muggles had). Quickly, in his best chicken scratch, he wrote a proud 'I accept' on a scrap of a book and, with an afterthought, scribbled on an addition.

The owl stared at him, and said in her deep voice, "Please tell me you're not cursing out your professors _already, _Rocket."

The raccoon boy snorted. "'Course not. Just gotta make sure they remember my proper name, not that crap I used to be saddled with." He looked over his letter carefully to make sure it was actually legible.

It read:

'_I accept._

_Remember to fix your books so I'm Rocket Raccoon. I ain't one of them no more.'_

The boy nodded in satisfaction and tied the letter around the owl's leg. He eyed the owl calculatingly. "Ya think you can give me a lift out of this joint?"

The owl glared at him. "I'm no pack animal and your vocabulary is deplorable. But fine. Otherwise, we'll never get out of this place."

"We?"

"Yes, _we_. How else were you planning on getting to school? Going to ride the train from King's Cross Station? You'd get shot on suspicion of being rabid."

The boy growled at the owl in annoyance before frowning in thought. "We're gonna have to stop by Diagon Alley then. Gringotts is there, right? I can get some gold out of my trust fund that even my damn family couldn't touch."

The owl sighed. "We better get going. You are ready?"

Rocket bared his teeth in a grin. "Let's blow this joint."

*0*0*0*

The pygmy owl darted through the thick trees surrounding the large manor house, its speckled wings catching the light of the sun that reached through the woods. Twilight was beginning to fall on the forest, but the owl, who had flown for a most of the day, was determined to reach its destination before night truly fell.

Speeding up, the owl swooped upward, finding, with ease of familiarity, the semi-concealed owl entrance.

The owl emerged over a long mahogany table, which was covered with beautiful dishes, and elaborate paintings hanging from the walls.

With a twitch of its short wings, the owl confidently soared towards a small door that led off the huge dining room. It was almost hidden, but the owl had been there the previous year on the boy's eleventh birthday.

The smaller room was part of the kitchen, and there, motionlessly sitting on a tall stool, was a tall, muscular, twelve year old boy. The boy was staring at the red markings that covered his skin. The curling red runes and designs were embedded into his entire body, curling all along his arms and reaching up, around his eyes.

The boy was unfolding and refolding a very crinkled, slightly ripped sheet of paper. It was a thoughtless action, one born of desperation for one last shred of comfort from the words of the dead.

As the owl entered the kitchen with a quiet flap of its wings, the boy's head jerked, his pale eyes immediately finding the new threat and his body stiffening with its unnatural strength.

Recognizing the owl, he let a low rush of breath escape him, his muscles relaxing slowly. He smiled softly at the owl, reaching out one large hand and allowing the bird to land on it gingerly. With one gentle finger, the boy stroked the owl's feathers before slipping the letter free of its loose bindings to the owl. He was thankful for the lack of ties and small knots, as that would have resulted badly for that letter.

The boy unfolded the letter slowly. It read:

'_Mr. Shafiq,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. _

_We are pleased to hear that you have recovered from the incident that occurred last summer and are looking forward to seeing you at school._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress'_

The boy lowered his head, his hands instinctively closing on the letter.

An incident, an _incident._

That was the best word they could use to describe the murder of his muggle-born mother and his sister by Ronan's lackeys, the last of the Death Eaters.

And his own, unnatural survival.

He should've died that night. To any other human, the wounds would've been fatal, but not for him. Not for the boy who had potion-induced superstrength.

The boy blinked back tears before reaching over and quickly writing an acceptance. The only way to ever get revenge for his family, against Ronan, he would have to learn his magic and how to channel it.

Drax wasn't the most patient of boys, but he would give his mother and sister peace and allow his father to finally rest easily again.

No matter what.

*0*0*0*

Several hours later, a figure watched an ancient castle that would soon flood with students once more. In the late of the night, four owls of differing sizes and temperaments soared towards it, gliding over the tree-like creature.

The creature watched them, a soft smile on its wooden face.

There was something in the wind, the creature thought. The trees were whispering more actively than they had in the decades he had lived there.

He saw the largest of the owls dive down into the forest, rising back up a minute or so later, having lost the odd lump on her back, and beating her wings quickly to catch up to the others.

With care, Groot uprooted himself from his favorite patch of soil, and walked through the forest towards where the owl had dropped her… passenger?

It was going to be an interesting year.

*0*0*0*

**So, there it is. I would adore any reviews/comments/remarks that you feel like giving. Who was your favorite to hear about? Who's introduction made you the most curious? What Houses do you think they'll be in? (That last one is already decided, though I'm curious to know what you guys'll think.)**

**And please, help me convince my sister to get a fanfiction account so I can point any complaints about it to her (I blame her for everything, mwhahaha).**

**See ya next time!**

**Scales**


	2. Book 1: The Train

**Well, that was a faster update than I expected. But, hey, I'm not complaining. :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own either Guardians of the Galaxy or Harry Potter. Any recognizable characters, paragraphs, or plots do not belong to me. I only own the twisted universe where the Guardians were all wizards/witches and went to Hogwarts.**

**Ok, now that that's out of the way, let me welcome you to the next chapter!**

**Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed! You guys have made my week and I hope you like the next section!**

**Alright, I am going to be attempting to update **_**weekly**_**, as I'm actually getting time to write, but as school increases its load, there's no telling if I'll be able to keep the schedule up. I will do my best though, promise. This is my first attempt at having the characters actually interacting with each other, so, please please please, review and tell me if you think they should be acting differently! I am working with a mixture of the book verse and the movie verse of Harry Potter, so most likely Harry, Ron, and Hermione will be a mixture of those as well. **

***0*0*0***

_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_

Book 1: The Train

When Peter Quill signed up for Hogwarts, he had no idea what he was agreeing to.

Really. No idea.

Oh, he had no doubts that he could handle the school itself, but dealing with his surrogate family's ribbing about going "to become a real qualified wizard, boy" and how he "better not start forgettin' who owes who, boy" was just annoying.

And now, in a train station filled with muggles bustling around, rushing to get places, Peter was just about _done_ with his guardians. They were having a blast, terrorizing the muggles, and Peter quickly slipped away, heading towards the platform with his trunk (which he _may_ have stolen) rolling behind him.

As he approached the platform, his eyes fell on another boy. The black haired boy was standing in front of the platform with a snowy owl resting in a crate and a large trunk next to him, looking completely lost.

A grin tugged on Peter's lips.

This was going to be fun.

Peter turned the volume up on his headphones, and, still dragging his trunk, began to dance up towards the platform and the boy, singing along with the song, "_Come and get your love, come and get your love, come and get your love now…"_

He danced confidently up to the boy's side, with a bright grin on his face, before halting in front of the boy with a final spin. He smiled at the boy's confused expression and stuck his hand out. "Hello! The name's Peter Quill, Ravager Extraordinaire!" Peter frowned suddenly, "Wait, I'm not supposed to tell you that, please forget it. Who're you?"

The boy blinked blankly, his jaw slightly dropped from Peter's, er, _unique_ entrance.

"Um, er, I'm Harry. Harry Potter." Harry grimaced, hoping that the boy, Peter, wouldn't start fawning over him like the people in Diagon Alley had.

Peter grinned. "Cool! Want to dance into the platform with me?"

Harry blinked before a small smile grew on his face. Peter's attitude hadn't changed at all with his introduction, which was a new and very welcoming reaction to Harry. Harry asked, curious, "Do all wizards… dance? Everywhere?"

Peter winked cheekily. "Only the awesome ones! Come on! Just move on through and don't hesitate and you'll go right in!" The blonde boy danced into the wall, not hesitating at all as he vanished into the wall.

Harry took a deep breath and walked quickly to the wall and closed his eyes so he didn't hesitate as he followed his first friend into platform 9 ¾.

*0*0*0*

Harry opened his eyes and blinked in astonishment at the brilliant red train that was sitting proudly in the station and the robed, bustling people in cloaks of all colors.

Peter spun, grinning brightly at Harry. "You want to find a compartment together? I think I like you, and I think I can eventually convince you to start dancing…"

Harry snorted, but smiled largely. Peter seemed bright and cheerful and it was contagious. And he was so different than Dudley and his crew. "Sur-"

"WATCH OUT!"

Peter shoved Harry out of the way just before he was bowled over by a trolley rolled by a tall, skinny boy with bright red hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but you really should've gotten clear of the entrance so that others could continue to enter the platform." The red head lectured as Peter picked himself up with a slight groan.

"Say that to my broken back, you prat." The blonde boy muttered under his back as he picked himself up and dragged his trunk out of the line of fire.

Harry grabbed Peter's arm, pulling him to his feet. "You alright?"

Peter grinned. "I'm fine. I'll never get beaten by something like that."

The two first years turned towards the red-haired boy who had been replaced by a pair of identical red-haired boys.

"Hello there. We're Fred-"

"And George Weasley. Sorry our-"

"Prat of a brother ran off. Do you-"

"Need some help with your trunks?"

"To make up for Percy the Pratty Prefect."

The two stopped talking like a tennis match and looked at the pair expectantly.

The two first years just blinked before Peter's face broke into a huge grin. "Ooh, I _like_ you two, but no thanks. I like to keep the locks on my trunk intact, thank you very much."

The twins clutched their chests in unison. "Oh Fred, the distrust of the fresh generation-"

"Is so cruel and cold against our helpfulness-"

"And our completely altruistic motives!"

Peter raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "I'm not buying it. I have heard too much about the rather infamous Weasley twins."

Harry glanced between the others with a small smile before nodding. "I'd like help, thanks!"

With identical (and slightly terrifying) grins, the twins saluted Harry in unison before allowing the first years to lead chose their compartment. .

Peter quickly approached the stairs near an empty compartment in the back of the train, with Harry close behind. Peter made a big deal about lifting his 'heavy' trunk, though (thanks to the Ravagers), his trunk actually had several feather-light spells on it, so he could carry it easily. The twins helped (with _real_ groans of effort) lift Harry's trunk and put it on the racks above. Harry and Peter quickly claimed the window seats.

Harry grinned at the twins. "Thanks."

The twins saluted the pair cheekily and left the compartment, with a last call of, "We'll see you lot later!"

Peter looked over at the black haired boy across the way out of the corner of his eye and smiled. "So… what d'ya want to talk about?"

Harry looked out the window at the bustling station and asked, "Do you know a lot about the wizarding world?"

With a snort, Peter said, "Yeah, I've been raised in it, well, part of it, since I was a toddler."

Harry bit his lip and asked shyly, "Can you tell me about this world? I was raised by normal people, um, I mean, muggles."

Peter nodded and began to speak. "I don't have the most usual of experiences, but I can tell you what little I know."

The two boys were deep in the discussion of the differences between muggle food ("But muggles deep fry everything! That can't be good for you!") and wizard food ("You eat things called _cockroach clusters?_ Really?"), when the door to the compartment slid open with a bang.

The tall boy flinched guiltily at the noise and grunted, in a surprisingly deep voice, "Sorry. Do you mind if I join your compartment?"

Peter examined the new boy with curious eyes. The boy looked just as awkward and uncomfortable as the other first years, but he was taller and looked older than them. He was wearing a long black robe, but as he shifted uncomfortably, some of his arms were exposed. The revealed skin was covered with red curls and curves of tattoos or something that went along with the curls that circled around on his bald head.

Quickly regaining his smile, Peter glanced at Harry, who was looking a bit nervous at the strange boy. Harry caught his eye and gave a small nod, pushing back his nerves at the wizard boy.

The tall boy sat next to Peter, looking curiously at the other two. "My name is Drax of the House of Shafiq. May I inquire of your names?"

Peter stuck out his hand. "The name's Peter Quill. Of the house of, uh, Quill."

"And I'm Harry. Er, Harry Potter."

Drax took Peter's hand in a firm shake and Peter flinched as his hand bones were minorly crushed. Then the taller boy turned to Harry. "I have heard many tales of your exploits and victories over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and I salute your valor as a warrior for defeating him at such a young age."

Harry blinked before gingerly taking Drax's hand and wincing as the boy's grip tightened. "Er, thanks. I guess."

Drax noticed the flinch and immediately the warmth in his eyes faded into apologetic resignation and he released Harry's hand like it was a hot potato. "I apologize." He spoke stiffly, his shoulders tight.

Harry saw the other boy withdrawing and quickly spoke. "It's ok, really. You didn't hurt me and, honestly, I don't deserve your, er, salute. I did it as a baby and don't really remember it at all."

Drax looked at him, surprised. "Thank you. I will not squeeze your bones until they creak again."

Harry couldn't help but grin at the older boy's obvious sincerity. "So, are you a first year too?"

Nodding, Drax sat next to Peter, clasping his hands together in his lap and absentmindedly rubbing his fingers along the ridges of the red marks across his skin. "Technically, I am a first year, though I am actually twelve."

Peter tilted his head and looked at Drax. "Why'd you come this year instead?"

Drax stiffened again, and Peter grimaced, awkwardly traded glances with Harry, before continuing to speak. "Actually, I'm more curious, do you know any magic already?"

He brightened up and the twelve-year-old boy began to talk about the basic spells he had learned at his father's knee, as the train left the station with a lurch. Harry glanced out the window and saw a blur of people waving their children off, and he felt a pinch of jealousy, before Peter and Drax diverted his attention again.

A few minutes later, the door of the compartment slid open again. The red-haired boy seemed to stop short, looking almost surprised at the presence of Peter and Drax. The boy's eyes slid back towards the green-eyed boy, before he pointed at the seat next to Harry. "Er, anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

Harry glanced at Peter and Drax, who shrugged and blinked respectively, before he shook his head and gestured for the boy to take the seat next to Harry.

The boy grinned before sliding into the seat next to Harry, examining the other boy out of the corner of his eye. Peter and Drax traded glances with each other and Harry, before Peter opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the door.

The twins were back. "Hey Ron-"

"Oh, you're with-"

"Those two! We're glad-"

"You've met our little brother-"

"Ickle Ronniekins."

"Anyway, Ron-"

"We're going down the middle of the train –"

"Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"So, see you later then."

The twins left before any of the four boys had a chance to speak.

Drax was the first to speak. "I do not understand what just happened."

Snorting, Peter turned to 'Ickle Ronniekins', "You must have had a _fun_ time with those two as brothers."

Ron grimaced. "You have no idea," before he continued, "My name's Ron, Ron Weasely."

Harry grinned back at him, "I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

"And I'm Peter Quill."

"I am Drax of Shafiq."

Ron focused on Harry's words, "You're really Harry Potter? Do you really have that, uh, scar?"

Harry grimaced and pulled up the hair on his forehead, revealing the thin, lightning-shaped scar.

Peter's eyes scanned the scar and moved on, not lingering on the proof of Harry's traumatic experience. Drax looked quietly, murmuring, "A proud battle scar."

Ron grinned brightly and said, "Brilliant."

Peter glanced at Ron with a single raised eyebrow. That was a pretty jubilant reaction towards a scar that, yes, signified Harry's defeat of You-Know-Who, but also represented the death of Harry's parents. Peter gave a mental shrug and turned his attention back to the group of four boys, who were now all discussing different wizarding foods.

After the trolley passed and their bellies were full of sweets, the conversation turned towards their final location.

Peter was the one who asked the question. "So, what Houses do you think you guys will be in?"

Ron puffed out his chest and said, "Gryffindor, the best House! My whole family has been in there!"

With a shrug, Drax said, "I do not know, friend Peter, but based on family history, I would be in Gryffindor."

Cheering, Ron raised his hand to Drax for a high five, and the boy just looked blankly. "Why are you holding your hand in the air?"

Ron looked at Drax blankly. "Um, it's a high five. You're supposed to slap it."

Furrowing his brow, Drax looked at Ron, but shrugged before slapping Ron's hand to the side. Ron's hand flew sideways and Ron yelped, "Bloody hell! _Not like that!_"

Peter was nearly dying of laughter as Drax tried to apologize while Ron cradled his hand and moaned.

Harry, holding in a snort of laughter, redirected the conversation back to its path. "Um, not to sound stupid or anything, but what do you mean by 'Houses'?"

Slapping his head, Peter apologized, "Sorry, I forgot you're muggle-raised. The four Houses are the different dormitories in Hogwarts, and each one has its own key characteristics. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin."

"What are the differences between the Houses?"

Peter opened his mouth, but Ron butted in. "Gryffindor's the best, obviously. Only the bravest get in there. Ravenclaw's a bunch of nerds, Hufflepuff's for duffers, and Slytherins are evil." Dropping his voice dramatically, Ron continued. "You-Know-Who was from Slytherin, along with almost every witch and wizard who went bad."

Peter frowned. "That's too generalized. There are good and bad aspects to every House, and there were dark wizards who weren't from Slytherin, like Ronan the Accuser."

"Ronan the Accuser was a Gryffindor." Drax affirmed in a growl, his hands clenching so hard that his knuckles turned white with the strain.

Allowing his new friend the dignity of a private moment, Peter continued. "Gryffindors are brave, true, but they're rasher and more likely to rush into things. Ravenclaws are very intelligent, but can have problems being practical and getting things done. Hufflepuffs are incredibly loyal, but sometimes don't manage to take the initiative. _Sometimes._ Trust me, I know a very _very_ powerful Hufflepuff." Peter was ticking the Houses of on his fingers. "And last, but not least, is Slytherin. Slytherins are incredibly cunning and good at coming up with quick solutions, but the ambition can often lead them to making foolish decisions."

Ron glared and said, "Gryffindors are the best! And you forgot to include that Slytherins are pure evil. They're manipulative and cruel and don't really care about anything."

Harry glanced at Ron before squinting at Peter through his glasses. "How do you know all this?"

Grinning bashfully, Peter shrugged. "Let's just say I have a _very_ interesting family unit."

"So, do you know magic already, friend Peter?" The taller boy as studying Peter with his pale eyes alight with curiosity.

Peter reached into his sleeve, pulling out his wand and twirling it through his fingers with the ease of long practice. "Well, I wouldn't say I know _a lot_ of magic, but people might say that about me, considering I'm a first year."

Harry studied Peter a moment longer and opened his mouth, before the compartment door opening yet again interrupted him.

A girl stood in the entrance, her bushy hair creating an interesting silhouette. "Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one." She caught sight of Peter's exposed (and slightly scratched up) wand, held in his hand. "Ooh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

Peter blinked, taken back by the girl's very forward nature. Glancing at his wand, Peter focused on the lock of one of the trunks opposite of his. "_Alohomora._"

"Oi!" Ron yelped as his trunk popped open with a very audible click of the lock.

Laughing cheerfully, Peter glanced at the girl, "What about you? Have any tricks up your sleeve?"

The girl grinned, "I read about this one!" She marched forward, until she was standing in front of Harry. He looked up at her, slightly terrified, as the girl cast, "_Oculus reparo._"

Harry blinked in shock as the tape on his glasses disappeared, and he took off his glasses, looking closely at the bridge between the lenses. "Wow." Harry murmured, as he replaced his glasses.

The girl began to speak quickly, her bossy voice wavering for a moment in her nervousness, "I've been trying a few simple spells, just for practice you know, and it's all worked for me so far. No one in my family was magic, so it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it's enough… I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Peter blinked at the information overload, before grinning cheerfully as he said, "My name's Peter Quill, and if you've already memorized your course books, then you are going to be _fine_."

"I am Drax of Shafiq, and I do not believe the memorization of course books is necessary for classes."

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

Hermione tilted her head to the side before saying, "Are you really? I've read about you in some of my extra books. You're in _Modern Magical History _and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and…" The girl trailed off, seeing Peter motioning to stop talking.

Harry was looking rather stunned, "…Am I?" He asked, feeling slightly overwhelmed. All those people, knowing his story, or at least thinking they did…

Peter snorted. "The accounts are probably wrong. I mean, the only witness to the night was Harry, right? And he probably didn't give an interview.."

Harry shook his head, breaking through his shock. "I don't even remember much, just a bunch of green light." He offered.

Drax spoke up then, "There is no need to discuss this now. I believe friend Harry is distressed by our topic of conversation."

Harry felt his face run red. "I-I'm fine, really."

Hermione looked slightly abashed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. Um, anyway, I'd better go and keep looking for Neville's toad. You guys better all get changed, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

The girl left just as abruptly as she came, and silence was left in her wake.

Ron grumbled, "Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it.."

Drax looked at him. "Why not? She is knowledgeable and would be an asset in battle in the future."

"She's annoying!"

"She was nervous, and she's just entered a world she has no real-life experience in, give her a bit of slack." Peter admonished. Ron shot him an annoyed look, and turned to mutter to the uncomfortable-looking Harry.

Harry leaned towards believing Peter's point of view, but didn't want to alienate Ron, so when Ron mentioned Quidditch, he latched onto the subject change and soon the four boys were once more engrossed in their conversation of the different rules and the best games and players of Quidditch.

However, not long into their conversation, the door to the compartment opened _yet again._

With a roll of his eyes, Peter muttered, "I think we accidently chose the 'Please-Come-In-And-Interrupt-Us compartment.."

Drax's brow furrowed, "I did not know there was a compartment set aside for that."

Harry looked at Drax, confused. "It's a metaphor, it's not literal."

Blinking, Drax remained silent, as Hermione poked her head in again. "Just as a heads up, we're approaching Hogwarts. You really should get into robes," before she disappeared again.

Harry smiled and exchanged looks with Ron, Peter, and Drax, as the four boys organized who would change into robes first (excluding Drax, since he was already in his robes). There was a new electricity in the air though, a new tension. Hogwarts was approaching and their first steps into their new school were about to be taken.

*0*0*0*

Rocket poked his head through the leaves, watching the train starting to approach. With a fanged grin, he quickly scrambled down the tree, until he reached an altitude that he could leap onto Groot's shoulder from. "It's comin'!" He yelled down as Groot retracted to his normal (still giant) height.

The green-skinned girl looked up at the raccoon, and narrowed her eyes. "I _know_, Rocket, I can hear it, so there's no need to screech my ear off."

Rocket sniffed, his tail flicking in mock-offense, "Well _excuse_ me, miss forest princess, for trying to notify ya' that it's gonna be showtime soon."

Gamora nervously rubbed her hands on her new black robes, as she spoke in a self-assured voice that contradicted her nervous gesture, "You better get in your robe too, Rocket, so they know you're coming as you."

Rocket stilled for a second, before climbing the rest of the way down Groot and reaching the forest floor. "I know," he grunted, scoring the ground with his claws.

Gamora looked at him and touched his back, just barely, with her fingers. It was the barest gesture of comfort, but the only one that the two of them could give, and, after weeks of living with each other and Groot in the Forbidden Forest, they knew what it meant. They were both, by definition, 'monsters' to the wizarding world, and they took support from the presence of the other.

Ever since Rocket's owl had placed him in the forest, he had been learning. He had met Groot right off the bat, and after a few days of trying to decipher the more subtle tones in his constant "I am Groot"s, Rocket had been able to understand Groot's speech.

Barely a week into his stay, Rocket had run into the wild-eyed green girl. She had thought him an animal at first, but between his speech and Groot, she had quickly been convinced otherwise. Rocket had hated her at first, but, over the weeks, they had grown to become friends. Groot had helped them fashion a shelter in the depths of the Forest, and Gamora had taught Rocket the survival skills that books had failed to tell him.

And, as they became true friends, they had traded their stories. Gamora spoke of the utter destruction of her people at the hands of the man who had taken her to grow her into a weapon. She spoke of having to perform missions and having the torture spell cast on her to 'toughen her up'. Choking out the words, Gamora had even spoken of being forced to learn how to cast evil magic, and how _dirty_ her elvish magic had felt afterwards.

Rocket had replied with his own story. He told of his few, purely human memories. Of finding and drinking that damn, contaminated potion. He told of being abandoned at St. Mungos, of reading and reading and reading to try to keep himself sane as the world tried to convince him that he was no longer human, that he was a monster. Rocket had nervously groomed his fur as he spoke of sending the letters, of his unexpected friend, the great horned owl.

Groot had comforted both with his "I am Groot," and then he had told of his own past. Rocket had translated for Gamora, as she couldn't quite understand his speech. They had learned of Groot breaking away from his wood at a very young age (for a tree), and how he had settled here after losing his way.

The three had formed almost unbreakable bonds in their weeks in the Forest.

And now they had to leave their small slice of peace and enter the school.

Rocket climbed into his (absolutely ridiculous) robes, and the pair looked at each other.

"Ya ready, elf-girl?"

"More ready than you, raccoon-boy."

"I am Groot."

And with a twin nod, the two headed towards where the train would disembark, so they could join in the other first years when they arrived.

Groot smiled as he hid among the trees. No use scaring the new students now, he thought, and he kept his eyes on his pair of friends as they stepped into their new lives.

*0*0*0*

**So, there it is. Please review and tell me what you think!**

**Some of the characters are acting differently then they do in their respective universes, but, hey, they're in different circumstances. Minor changes will eventually lead to larger ones in the future… mwhaha.**

**Thank you for reading, and I'll see you next week (hopefully)!**

**Scales**


	3. Book 1: The Arrival

**Hi again! Real quick:**

**Guest 1: Rocket will have building skills, just not in mechanics. Mechanics don't really work well in the Magical world (Peter's headset will be explained later), so Rocket's skills will be focused elsewhere. :) **

**Guest 2: THANK YOU! I'm really glad you like it and I hope you keep enjoying it!**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favorite/followed, and I hope you keep enjoying the story!**

**Sorry we didn't get to the Sorting this chapter. It got a bit too long, so I cut it off. But hey, more next week. ;) There's several sections that are drawn directly from the book in this one, and they don't belong to me. Mostly McGonagall's speaking. Anyway, here we go!**

***0*0*0***

_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_

Book 1: The Arrival

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Peter gave a little jump at the sudden blare of the voice. All four boys were dressed in their robes and itching to get moving. Harry tugged nervously at his sleeves, his green eyes flickering from person to person, never lingering for more than a moment. Drax reverted to a stone-like stillness that was almost eerie. Ron was pale and fidgeting continuously with his hands.

Peter could feel his own palms sweating profusely, and, unthinkingly, he rubbed them on his robes, trying to erase the evidence of his nerves. Mentally berating himself, because he _should not be nervous_, _he should not be nervous._ But if he wasn't sorted where he thought he'd be, he would lose _so _much money to the other Ravagers… Not to mention, Yondu would _never_ let him forget it.

The train slowed, and finally slid to a stop. The group, without any more speaking, trudged out with everyone else, emerging onto the dark platform in a confusing mass of people.

Peter grabbed Drax and Harry's sleeves and, with Ron on his heels, tugged them through the deep, reverberating voice he could hear from one end of the platform, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Harry's face lit up in relief as he apparently recognized the voice, and the speaker – a giant of a man (or maybe just a giant in general) –recognized him too. "Hey, Harry! All right there, Harry?"

Without waiting for a response, the man continued herding the first years into a narrow path. Peter glanced back, seeing the mass of older years disappearing into the woods, and then blinked in surprise. There, trailing the group of first years, was a girl who, in the meager light of the platform, seemed to have _green skin?_ And by her side was something small and furry, but it almost looked like it was in a robe…?

But, before he could try to figure out who the two figures were, Harry was tugging his arm, pulling him down the slippery path. They tripped and slipped down the path, following the steps Ron and Drax were taking as they picked their way down. Harry and Peter were among the last to leave the woods, and the pair quickly moved towards one of the small, rickety boats. Drax and Ron had already perched themselves in it, and the boat was tilting rather noticeably towards Drax's larger bulk.

Peter couldn't help but sneak a last look back, looking for the strange pair, but his view was blocked by the giant, who Harry grinned up at. The giant grinned down at them as he pushed their boat out and whispered rather loudly, "Yeh should look at Hogwarts now, you two."

The blonde boy turned towards the castle and he felt his breath taken away. Hogwarts was a giant castle, with glowing lights in every window, with an almost perfect reflection in the black water of the lake. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, not anything like he had imagined the castle from his mother's old stories. Peter almost choked on the sudden lump in his throat. He could almost hear his mother's voice speaking now, in its warm, soft tones as she had described the castle to him once.

His attention was jerked back to reality as he heard the giant shout, "Everyone in? Right then – FORWARD!"

The boats all started moving towards the castle in unison, and Peter took a second from watching the castle grow closer to examine the other boats. He had never been able to squish his innate curiosity, and that pair, if they were real, were definitely interesting.

Peter almost thought he had imagined them, when he noticed the two strange figures in the boat closest to the giant's.

It was hard to see definite features in the faint light cast by the lanterns on each boat, but Peter could see a strange glint of green on a thin girl's skin, and, next to her, a silhouette of a – raccoon? – sat.

The two were riding in a boat with a girl with a familiar head of bushy hair… And she looked like she was interrogating them. It was too dark to read body language, but Peter was willing to bet a galleon that the pair, whoever they were, were unwillingly getting a full blast of Hermione Granger.

Peter grinned and turned back towards the boat, catching Harry's curious eyes. With a cheeky grin and a wink, Peter looked back towards the magnificent sight of the castle and mentally decided that he'd find out more about those two later.

*0*0*0*

Gamora wondered if her punishment for fleeing Thanos was death by overenthusiastic, over-curious eleven-year old girl.

She was starting to really consider jumping out of the small, ridiculously unstable boat and taking her chances in the black water. (Honestly, if she hadn't been able to feel the magic in the boat that ensured that it wouldn't start sinking, she wouldn't have gotten in the damn thing in the first place.)

Thankfully, Rocket grabbed Hermione's attention, though, surprisingly, it was by Rocket's initiative. Hermione had been rambling on about different books on different types of elves ("They said that all the wood elves were killed, and they were the only green-skinned elves…"), when Rocket had suddenly injected a question.

"What d'ya mean that that's what Roscher and Kirsch meant? That's nothing like what they meant!"

Hermione turned to Rocket and actually ignored the obvious questions about his raccoon body (maybe the girl had _some_ tact. _Maybe_) and instead started defending her interpretation.

This quickly devolved into an argument about different authors and their credibility and meaning. Gamora had no idea what books they were even talking about, and, exchanging glances with the quiet boy in their boat, he didn't know either.

The boy, Neville, had looked in surprise at the pair of them, but as Gamora started tensing in preparation for their cruel words, he smiled at them. He nodded at Rocket in… recognition? And Rocket had _nodded back?_

Gamora gave a soft smile as she looked forward towards the castle. Rocket's eyes were glowing the exhilaration of an intriguing debate and Hermione was almost dancing in joy at finding someone who could keep up with her. Gamora could almost see the friendship (and maybe rivalry) building between the pair.

Her instinctive wariness was still half-heartedly buzzing, but for the first time she had _hope_ that they might actually be accepted here.

She felt the crawl of her skin that meant that someone was watching her, and her head spun towards the other boats, her eyes narrowing as she scanned them for threats.

Alright, maybe her wariness had some points, but that spark of hope still remained.

Maybe there would be places for the half-elf and for the raccoon-boy in Hogwarts. Just maybe.

*0*0*0*

Finally, the boats landed. After the giant ("His name's Hagrid," Harry had told Drax when he had asked on the boat) had returned the toad to the boy (probably the Neville Hermione had been helping), Hagrid knocked three times on the massive door, which swung open with a creak.

A tall, stern-looking witch gazed out at the herd of first years, her eyes analyzing and judging them. For a moment, her eyes rested on Peter's group, looking at Harry a moment longer than everyone else, before moving on. They lingered again, this time on Hermione's group with the odd pair, and Peter thought he could see the faintest hint of pride in the dark eyes.

Peter tucked that tidbit of information away in his mind as Professor McGonagall (as announced by the very loud Hagrid) led the herd of first years through the amazingly huge entrance hall. Harry's eyes were as wide as saucers, and Peter wasn't much better. Drax was gazing around in muted interest, though he hid it better, and Ron was practically bouncing.

But instead of heading towards the brightly lit doorway, Professor McGonagall directed the first years into a smaller room on the side. After all the first years had filed in, Professor McGonagall turned towards them, examining them sharply.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you can take a seat in the Great Hall, you must be sorted into your Houses. Your Houses will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with your House, sleep in the House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."

"The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has had its triumphs and has produced its own outstanding witches and wizards. Your triumphs will earn you House points, while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will be awarded the House Cup."

The woman paused briefly, and Peter couldn't resist the urge to fidget nervously, shifting closer to his group of friends instinctively. He could _feel_ her evaluating him and the others.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

And with that, the woman turned on her heel and left the room swiftly.

Harry gulped nervously, but Peter's attention was grabbed by Hermione towing her group towards the group of boys. "Hi," she panted, directing her words to Harry, "Are you ready? I am ever so excited…"

Peter would have listened more, but he was gazing at the girl who was unmistakably green-skinned and a small raccoon-cub looking creature standing in Hogwarts robes.

He couldn't resist the grin on his face. He walked so he stood next to them, and the girl and raccoon stiffened. "So.." Peter spoke, looking at the girl's green skin and reddish hair with the brighter ends. "Half-elf, I'm betting?"

"How do you know that?" The girl snapped defensively.

Peter smirked. "I have my sources." He stuck his hand out, "I'm Peter Quill."

The girl scanned him, suspiciously, before gripping his hand firmly, giving it one shake before releasing. "Gamora."

Peter felt a stir in the back of his memory. He _knew_ that name, but it was escaping him… He mentally shook it off. He'd look it up later. Peter turned his eyes to the raccoon and saw the unmistakable glint of intelligence in the black eyes glaring back at him. Peter, unhesitatingly, held out his hand to the raccoon. "Peter Quill."

The raccoon blinked, taken aback. He gingerly took Peter's hand, squeezed it with his claws, before dropping it. "Rocket Raccoon." The voice was almost scratchy, but it was a very human voice.

Drax had come up next to Peter, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione trailing a bit behind. "Who are your new friends, friend Peter?"

"I am Gamora."

"And m' name's Rocket."

Drax smiled gently, "I am Drax of Shafiq."

Hermione piped up, "You guys know me already."

From the minor flinches that cued, Peter was relatively sure that Hermione _had_ been interrogating them on the boat and he felt a deep stir of sympathy.

"I'm Ron Weasley."

"And I'm Harry Potter."

Rocket's tail twitched as he nodded his head, gazing up at all their faces. Peter could see interest glinting in his black eyes, but also wariness. At least Gamora's posture had relaxed a notch.

An awkward silence stretched, the sparking tension of the incoming Sorting still resting in the room that buzzed with worried whispers.

Then the tension was shattered with a hammer.

"It's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

A pale boy had stalked in front of their group, flanked by two large, hulking boys. Only Drax rivaled them in height and bulk, and he had stiffened, moving instinctively into a fighting posture.

Harry blinked at the boy, unsettled by the attention of all the first years coming to rest solely on him.

"This is Crabbe, and Goyle, and I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Ron snickered under his breath, as Peter rolled his eyes. Could this guy be anymore overdramatic?

The boy turned on Ron angrily, a sneer curling over his lips. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley." Malfoy's eyes turned towards the side of the group and alit on Gamora and Rocket. His lip curled in disgust. "And now you're interacting with half-breeds and… what even _is_ he? Some kind of experiment gone horribly wrong? Tell me, rodent, who are you trying to fool with that robe?"

Rocket's teeth were bared, and with a screech, he leaped at Malfoy, only to be grabbed out of the air by Gamora. She hissed in his ear, "We can't make a scene, not yet. We'll get him back later, I promise."

Drax took a step forward, coldness settling in his voice, "No one speaks to my friends like that."

Peter rocked forward, touching Drax's arm to indicate for the older boy to back off a bit. Drax gave him a look, but rocked back on his heels. Peter turned to the pale boy, his eyes cold, "Well, at least they don't swagger over here like they're pretending to be some kind of snot-nosed prince, or maybe pretending to be a little dragon? Gonna huff and puff and blow my house down?" Peter grinned, showing a few more teeth than normal, "I can bet that these people you're looking down on are far more powerful than your stunted, inbred magic could ever let you be. And they have the benefit of not being assholes."

The pale boy's face flooded with color. "Why you…"

Peter caught the boy's eyes, staring him down. His voice dropped lower, "I know exactly who you are, Draco Malfoy, and I know who your father is. It doesn't scare me. Honestly, it makes me feel more comfortable, since I know that you're just a little tadpole trying to throw his weight around in a big pond."

Drax's brow furrowed. "But he is not a dragon or a tadpole. He is a small and squishy albino human."

Peter grinned, "Exactly."

Malfoy was bright red at this point, and, trying hard to hold his dignity together, he turned to Harry, who had been silent up to then. "You'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others. You don't want to go making fun with the wrong sort, especially ones that don't mingle and interact with _mudbloods_," Malfoy shot a glare towards Hermione, "and _half-breeds_ and _monsters_." Disgust was rich in every word as he examined their motley group. "I can help you there."

Malfoy extended his hand expectantly.

Harry stared at the boy for a moment, his green eyes the coldest Peter had seen them. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Malfoy sneered, but before he could reply, Professor McGonagall returned to the room.

The pale boy and his cronies retreated, still glaring at the group who now stood closer together.

As McGonagall got them situated in a line, Peter felt a soft touch on his elbow. Glancing back, he saw Gamora looking at him. She whispered softly, "Thank you."

Rocket grunted an agreement, his tail twitching madly.

Peter grinned and traded glances with Drax, who had also heard. "It was our pleasure to take that snob down a notch. Now, would you be so kind to join me in line?" Peter bowed overdramatically and extended his arm. Gamora snorted in amusement before grabbing his arm and dragging him into line behind Harry and Hermione.

Drax stood behind them, Rocket at his side. Peter couldn't resist a grin. The contrast between the two was pretty hilarious, though he wouldn't say that out loud for all the gold in the world. Rocket's claws looked far too sharp and he still was too jumpy for that kind of teasing.

Ron trailed behind them, looking a bit put out from not having a partner, but he was soon talking with Neville cheerfully.

Peter looked forward as they approached the Great Hall. He swallowed his nerves and strolled forward confidently.

*0*0*0*

**So, there we are. Sorting is next week! After that, I don't have anything written already, so updates may slow down. Sorry, school is the priority and this is just my attempt to keep hold of some sanity. **

**Review please!**

**See ya,**

**Scales**


	4. Book 1: The Sorting

**Hi! Sorting time!**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed! It really makes my day when I get to see one of the notification emails for that. :) **

**I don't have all of the next chapter written yet, and I have some tests next week, so the next chapter may be slightly delayed. I will do my best to get it out next weekend though. **

**Here we go!**

***0*0*0***

_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_

Book 1: The Sorting

Gamora had never thought of herself as a shy person. When in Thanos's clutches, she had done whatever was necessary to survive and to complete her mission, no matter how uncomfortable or _dirty_ it had made her feel.

Now though, standing in the Great Hall with _so many more_ students than she had been expecting, she suddenly felt very small.

The older years had grown quieter when the first years entered, but soon their voices picked up new whispers. Gamora, with her elfish blood, couldn't help but hear them.

"I heard that Potter's there somewhere."

"Who's the green one?"

"Is that a _raccoon?_"

"Where's Harry Potter? I want to see him!"

"_Bloody hell,_ somebody's been giving that boy bulk-up potions.."

"How many muggleborns this year, do ya reckon?"

"I bet Potter's in Gryffindor…"

Gamora glanced forward towards the green-eyed boy who seemed to be pointedly ignoring the whispers. She knew what he had done, thanks to Thanos, but never had she imagined him so… quiet. She had expected someone privileged and smug, but Harry wasn't trying to stand out. On the contrary, he was ducking his head and distracting himself with Hermione's constant word flow (did that girl even _have_ a filter?), trying to avoid the searching looks people sent at him.

The boy at her side spoke, "Bloody hell, now I feel even worse for Harry. I can _already_ hear the rumors forming and we haven't even been here for ten minutes."

Gamora grimaced, "It will only get worse." She predicted and Peter nodded, sharing his own grimace.

She examined him out of the corner of her eye. To Gamora, trusting others was not natural, not after the decimation of her people and Thanos, but Peter had defended them all. Yes, it was only from a big-headed idiot pureblood who Gamora could've murdered in dozens of ways without any proof of it being her, but _Peter had stood up for them._

He had treated Gamora and Rocket like actual people.

It wasn't enough to earn her entire trust, but Gamora was willing to give him a shot.

Gamora jolted back to reality as all of the first years came to a halt. Rocket's voice, which had been trying to explain metaphors to Drax, came to an abrupt end as Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of them all. On top of the stool was a truly ancient (and filthy) pointed wizard's hat.

She knew what was coming, but that didn't stop her from jolting a bit when the hat moved, opening its brim-mouth and began to _sing_.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head _

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in SLytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Gamora barely suppressed a snort and she could hear Rocket's snickers behind her. Sorting Hat? More like Propaganda Hat for whatever the Hogwarts people wanted you to think about the Houses. Thanks to her upbringing, Gamora knew far more history than she had ever wanted to, and she knew that any wizard from any House could go dark. It was merely finding the breaking point.

The half-elf stilled for a moment. Did she even have a last name on that sheet of names? She had always simply gone by Gamora, though sometimes last names were drawn from the names of the parents…

Her body went cold. _Please do not have me recorded as Thanos's daughter…!_

Gamora could barely breathe through her panic and a dark voice in her conscious, sounding like Thanos, sneered at her weakness. '_Panic attacks, weak. I believed I raised you better, daughter.'_

Gamora grit her teeth and fought back the panic. She nearly broke Peter's arm when he touched her arm gently, a worried look in her eyes. "You alright?"

"Fine." She hissed through her teeth, her eyes fixed on McGonagall. "Finnegan, Seamus," was the next to earn a House, this time in Gryffindor. Gamora hadn't been keeping track, but now the girl wished she had been.

Then, the impossible happened.

"Galonlithe, Gamora!"

Her heart had frozen in her chest. That name… It was an old, elfish name, one she hadn't heard in use since her very early childhood.

Rocket shoved her from behind and Gamora jerked, quickly walking forward to the Hat. She sat, and the hat quickly dropped over her eyes.

Sitting in the dark of the hat, Gamora felt like an idiot. She could hear some vague humming, but nothing distinct.

'_Hello?'_

She could almost feel the Hat snap back to her, and resisted a smirk.

"_Oh, I'm sorry, young elf. It's been a long time since I've seen a mind as complicated as yours."_

'_Complicated?'_

"_Hmm, yes. Elfish minds tend to be difficult to decipher. You are rather cunning and intelligent, and undoubtedly brave. However, when I look deeper, I can feel your great sense of compassion and… I have a feeling that when you give your trust to something, your loyalty will not easily be broken…. Do you have a preference, child? You could go many ways."_

Gamora felt stunned that the Hat was asking _her_. She had never put thought into what House she'd be in. She had simply assumed that she'd go to Slytherin, where the other dark witches and wizards in the making went. But now that she had a choice, she realized that she didn't want to be among peers who would constantly try to return her to Thanos. She wanted somewhere to _belong_.

"_So that's your choice, eh? Though I think you'll find your place in a certain group, I definitely know where to put you. It better be-"_ "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Gamora felt her jaw drop a bit. Hufflepuff? She had never dreamt of Hufflepuff as her House (though, granted, she had never really dreamed of attending Hogwarts in the first place…).

As she removed the Hat and looked towards the table with the yellow students, she was surprised to see the brilliant smiles on their faces as they applauded her.

Gamora gave a small, hopeful smile.

Maybe the Hat wasn't full of crap. Maybe.

*0*0*0*

Hermione couldn't stop bouncing on her toes. She knew it was immature and stupid, but she was so _excited_. And terrified.

She could _belong_ here! She could have friends and people might actually like her…!

Well, at least it couldn't be any worse than her last couple years at the muggle elementary school, right?

And she might even have found someone who read as much as she did! The raccoon-boy (how exactly did he become a raccoon in the first place? Was it a 'pureblood' thing? If so, she was so glad she was a muggleborn!), Rocket, had actually debated with her without insulting her! Hermione couldn't help the joy that filled her heart at that.

Peter had bantered with her, Harry had listened to her, Neville had smiled at her, and Rocket had debated with her.

And not a single one had insulted her or her intelligence.

She might have a chance to have real _friends._

Hermione was terrified that they would turn out like everyone in elementary school, but she had steeled herself and was going to try anyway. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

Hermione watched the green-elf-girl go up to the Hat. She sat up there for a long few minutes, before the Hat yelled out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The muggle-born witch watched Gamora go down towards the cheering table as her own name was called. "Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione charged up to the stool, excitement and terror warring within her and resulting in a great deal of impatience to be sorted. She placed the Hat on her head forcefully and resisted a jump as an amused voice whispered through her mind, _"Excited, child? It's been a while since I've seen a mind as bright as yours. Hmm, yes, you have the mind of an Eagle, but a Lion's heart. Which would you prefer dear? In Ravenclaw, you would be happy and have the opportunity to retreat from conflict, but in Gryffindor, you would truly make a difference in a harsh future, standing strong with your true friends and allies."_

Hermione resisted the urge to chew her lip in suspense at the choice, but she knew her answer. _'I wish to choose the path with true friends. I am not afraid to stand up for what's right.'_

The Hat's voice almost sounded proud, _"I know. Therefore, you shall be in-"_ "-GRYFFINDOR!"

A giant grin split Hermione's face as she took off the Hat and moved towards the cheering table. She glanced back at the others and saw that the red-haired boy looked disgruntled, but Peter was clapping and Rocket was giving her double thumbs up. A look at the Hufflepuff table showed her Gamora clapping politely and smiling at her.

Hermione felt warm. Even if she didn't have them in her House, she felt in her bones that they wouldn't abandon her. She had friends now. Maybe even those 'true friends' the Hat was talking about…

*0*0*0*

Harry felt queasy. Two of his new friends had been Sorted already, but it hadn't settled his nerves. What if he didn't fit into any House? Would the Hat just tell them to send him back? He didn't want to go back to the Dursleys!

Peter must've seen Harry's stiff posture, as the blonde boy gently shoulder bumped Harry and whispered, "Relax, we'll be fine. Really. Even if we're in different Houses, I'm not going to ditch you, and whatever Houses have us will be glad to have us."

Harry mustered up a smile, though he felt it probably looked more like a grimace. He was pretty sure he couldn't do this; the Hat was going to proclaim that to the entire Hall and he was going to be sent from Hogwarts in shame…

Peter nudged him harder. "Relax." The boy ordered.

Harry tried to squash his nerves as Peter suggested and focused on the Sortings.

He watched Neville race to Gryffindor, almost taking the hat with him, and saw Draco Malfoy stalk towards the stool with the hat, a smug grin on his face.

Seconds later, the pale boy was sorted into Slytherin, and he strut down to the cheering table.

There couldn't be many more until it was Harry's turn now… There was a lump in his throat, preventing him from speaking or tearing his thoughts away from their nervous chatter.

Moon, Nott, Parkinson, Patil, another Patil… There couldn't be many more-

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry felt his stomach lurch as he finally, _finally_, heard his name. With a shove from Peter, he stumbled forward, unable to avoid the whispers that had started up around him.

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

"She really said _Potter?_"

It was almost a relief to let the Hat slide down over his eyes and block out the rest of the Hall, most who were craning to try to get a glimpse of him (or, rather, his scar, he was willing to bet).

Harry nearly jumped as a new whisper curled its way into his head. _"Hmm… Difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. Lots of talent and a nice thirst to prove yourself and to protect your new friends… But where to put you?"_

Harry grimaced. He thought about the different Houses, the qualities Peter had described. He didn't really think he fit any of them, but if there was one he would rather avoid…

'_Um… can you hear me?'_

He 'heard' the Hat chuckle. "_Of course. I'm in your head, you know."_

'_Could you not put me in Slytherin? I'd rather not deal with Malfoy all the time…'_

The Hat chuckled again. "_I can almost see where you're coming from. Don't mention it to others, but his mind is vile and rank with prejudice. But Slytherin isn't all like that, and it could help you become great, you know."_

'_I'd rather not have to watch for him stabbing me in the back at every step, thanks.'_

Harry felt the Hat give its consent and then hum to itself. _"In that case, I think I know where I should put you. It better be-" _"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hall erupted into cheers as Professor McGonagall removed the Hat and Harry smiled, quickly walking down towards the celebrating table. Hermione was nearly bouncing with joy, and Harry slid into the seat across from her with a grin.

Looking at his new House, Harry could almost believe that he belonged here. And after he caught a glimpse of Peter shooting him thumbs up, Drax clapping enthusiastically, and Ron jumping up and down, Harry decided that while Gryffindor House might become his new family, he wasn't going to give up his new friends, even if they were in different Houses.

*0*0*0*

Peter wasn't actually paying all that much attention to the Sorting. Oh, he was paying close attention to where his new friends went (Harry being a Gryffindor he had called, but Gamora a Hufflepuff? He was surprised at that one), but for the rest he sort of tuning them out.

The Hat's Sorting song was a lot more interesting to contemplate.

Peter abruptly returned to awareness when, just after Harry, Professor McGonagall read, "Quill, Peter!"

For a second, Peter's feet were trapped on the ground, his breath caught in his throat, but then he lurched forward and the world blurred out around him.

He could imagine his mother sitting here, waiting for the Hat, and it filled him with pride to be following in her footsteps.

The Hat slid down around his head, dropping him into blackness.

"_Hmm. Hello there, you _do_ have an active mind, don't you? Recording and storing all the information you can, just in case you can use it later… But a loyal heart and a brave soul as well. Hmmm…"_

Peter grinned brightly. '_Aww, thanks, you're too kind. By the way, I loved the Sorting Song!'_

He felt the Hat twitch in surprise. "_Why, thank you. You are one of the first Hogwarts students to actually complement the Song that I spend an entire year composing."_

'_It was very catchy and very cleverly worded. Putting in warnings and predictions, while rhyming too! Though, I still prefer Muggle music.'_

The Hat hummed in agreement. _"There is something about Muggle music that just escalates it pasts Magical music… Maybe it's how it is all created by the Muggle's own hands? No wand or magic added, just pure from the musician.."_

Peter grinned and nodded fiercely. '_Yeah, and the Muggles are more creative about adding in different instruments and using those same instruments to make completely different sounds! Have you heard "Escape"? The Pina Colada Song?'_

The Hat sent an affirmation, and with a silent agreement, both Peter and the Hat verbally burst into song.

"IF YOU LIKE PINA COLADAS, AND GETTING CAUGHT IN THE RAIN. IF YOU'RE NOT INTO YOGA, IF YOU HAVE HALF-A-BRAIN…"

After a rousing rendition of the chorus, Peter tilted the Hat up, and gazed out at the silent, speechless Hall. Nearly the entire Hall of students and teachers had their jaws dropped, staring at him and the Hat, though Peter could see Harry barely containing a laugh and Hermione was very red in the face. Gamora was hiding her face in her hands, while Rocket was just cracking up, roaring with laughter, next to a very confused looking Drax.

Peter let the Hat drop back down over his face and cheekily thought, _'I think we forgot about something…'_

"_Oh, yes, the Sorting! …You distracted me on purpose, didn't you?"_

'_Who, little old me? Course not. I was just applauding your excellent singing skills…'_

The Hat chuckled, _"I know EXACTLY where you should go. Hopefully you can teach them how to follow the old way, not this rubbish, purity nonsense they're following now. It must be-"_ "SLYTHERIN!"

Peter felt McGonagall remove the Hat and he turned to give it a big smile before he strolled towards the green-and-silver table. Malfoy was staring at him open mouthed in horror and shock. Almost immediately after, his face twisted into a cold, ugly expression of fury.

"Careful, your face'll freeze like that." Peter said mildly, grinning at his fellow first years. He waved to Harry, who waved back. He glanced at his friends, and they all were cheering for him happily (though Rocket was still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes), except for Ron, who was red faced and… angry?

'_Ooh, yeah. Slytherins are supposed to be evil in his book…'_ Peter gave a shrug and turned to a few of the more palatable of the new Slytherins to start talking to them.

*0*0*0*

Rocket had been in stitches over Quill's Sorting. First he spent a stupidly long time under the Hat, where even the teachers had begun murmuring worriedly, and then he and the stupid Hat burst into song! An absolutely ridiculous Muggle song, that was so completely out of place in the grandeur of the wizarding hall.

Rocket loved it.

Quill had put them all off balance, so when "Raccoon, Rocket!" was called, it took the masses a minute to notice, and by then, Rocket was at the stool.

He wasn't running. He was just walking quickly so he could be Sorted and have it proven to them all that he _did_ count as human – well, human enough to get a House, to be counted a wizard by the Hat.

Obviously not running from the whispers that he could already hear circling the Hall.

The Hat barely covered Rocket's eyes, as it was held mostly aloft by Rocket's fluffy ears.

Rocket twitched his ears, allowing the Hat to fall a bit farther, muting most of his hearing. And he sat there in the darkness of the Hat.

Waiting.

…. Still waiting.

…

…..still…. waiting…

His claws clenched, his heart pounding wildly. Maybe he had been wrong after all. Maybe he was too twisted, too deformed to ever be a real wizard. Oh, who was he kidding, this was an exercise in futility. His magic, one of the only things he had ever had faith in, was a joke. '_'M just a bloody freakin' raccoon, just a freaky _animal_ who can talk and has delusions of being human…'_

"_Hm, I didn't realize you had that much self-disgust."_

Rocket verbally yelped, his tail twitching madly. '_You can hear me!'_ he mentally blurted out, before recovering, '_What was the big idea, takin' so long? Tryin' to give me a bloody heart attack?'_

"_My apologies, but your mind is rather difficult to read, thanks to your condition, and I was attempting to focus on figuring out what House you belong to."_

'…_and? You gonna give me an answer, or what?'_

The Hat sighed verbally, and Rocket could almost feel it rolling its eyes (if it could…? The Hat's eyes were just indents of the Hat… so how would that work?). _"Well, you're certainly brash enough to be with the Lions, but you would never be at home there. You have the skills, but not the soul of the Snakes, so that blocks that option."_ The Hat chuckled, "_You are quite a challenge Mr… Raccoon, as you prefer to go by now?"_

With a growl, Rocket demanded, '_You gonna give me a House or what?'_

"_I was getting there – you need to learn a bit of patience. But you are impatient to know, to learn, to fill your mind with books and knowledge so you'll never be so trapped or foolish again, correct? I know exactly where you should go, and it'll be the House of the Wise –" _"RAVENCLAW!"

McGonagall lifted the Hat off Rocket's head, and the raccoon-boy leaped off the stool, landing on his hind paws on the slippery stones. There was no applause for his Sorting. The Hall just stared, silent, until one 'brave' (more likely foolish) soul spoke up, "Professors… That's a raccoon. An animal. He can't possibly be a wizard or Sorted into a House."

Rocket, his hackles raised and his fur puffed out, snarled before any of the teachers could speak, "I am _not_ an animal and I have every right to be here, you miserable glob of hormones, idiocy, and shit!"

The boy stood in anger, spluttering, but Rocket had already moved on from him. Gamora had caught Rocket's eye. She was giving him her best death glare (and, having learned from Thanos, it was slightly terrifying, not that Rocket would _ever_ admit that) at him and he belatedly realized that he might be making a bit of a scene.

Grumbling, Rocket strode to his new table, leaping neatly onto the next seat. He ignored the other first years staring at him and shifting away, and just looked expectantly at the teachers' table.

One last beat of silence rang, before McGonagall blinked, cleared her throat, and called out the next name.

*0*0*0*

"Shafiq, Drax!"

Drax stood fluidly, but then awkwardly tried to squeeze between the other first years. They were tiny and puny and he didn't want to accidently squash one with his enhanced strength. He had already accidently injured Ron, and that wasn't even including trying to get to the platform itself. Squeezing in among all those people and trying not to just knock them all out of his way had been very difficult.

His father had been that way once, with people parting before him as he walked.

But not since the _incident_.

Now his father was different. He barely moved anymore, despite the house elves constantly encouraging him.

But that wasn't important now.

Drax moved up to the stool, sitting gingerly on the stool. His vision became black as the Hat dropped down.

"_Ah, a Shafiq. I like Shafiqs, you're always so straightforward. Your family has been a column of righteousness in the magical society for centuries."_

'_My family is not made of columns.' _Drax blinked in the darkness of the Hat.

It chuckled. "_I know, don't worry. Now, where do you belong…? Hm… You are brave, without a question, but if I dig deeper – ah, yes. That sense of righteousness and need for justice. You don't want to just be brave. You want to fight for a cause."_

'_For my family.' _He confirmed.

"_Yes, but you don't know all of your family yet," _The Hat muttered. Drax furrowed his brow, beginning to ask a question before being cut off by the Hat. _"Yes, I know exactly where you belong, the only House that could help you find your family. It better be-" _"-HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hat was removed hurriedly by McGonagall, and Drax numbly moved towards the cheering yellow-and-black table. He had not truly wondered about what House he would be in, but he knew his father had blithely assumed that it would be Gryffindor, like himself. Instead, he was in Hufflepuff, like his mother.

Drax smiled.

He couldn't think of a better tribute to his mother.

He slid into the seat next to the green-skinned girl, Gamora. She smiled at him, giving him a respectful nod. Drax returned the gesture as the last few first years were sorted into Houses (including a rather triumphant Ron who was quickly sent to the Gryffindor table).

Soon though, the entire Hall was hushed as the Headmaster rose. His robes were an almost violent shade of purple and glinted with bright sparkles imbued in the cloth.

"Welcome, welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Drax blinked, confused, up at the front table. He looked at Gamora. "I do not understand the meaning of his words."

Gamora gave a helpless shrug. "I don't think anyone did. His mind seems like a hive of Cornish Pixies." Another Hufflepuff looked at them, aghast, but Gamora seemed to ignore them. She instead simply reached past them, a silent challenge in her movements, and grabbed a plate of vegetables. "Carrot?" She asked Drax politely, chomping down on one with surprisingly white teeth.

Drax accepted the platter and began to dish food onto his own plate before examining their Headmaster with a closer eye. "I see no Pixies living in his head."

Gamora snorted. "It's an expression." She took a deep breath after polishing off her carrot, "I lived near to a hive of them when I was younger and the little monsters were buzzing in all directions all the time."

Drax paused, listening carefully, before giving a short nod and returning to his food, not asking Gamora for more information, and he saw her nod of appreciation.

*0*0*0*

**I hope you guys all like it! It was a ton of fun to write.**

**Review please!**

**See ya,**

**Scales**


	5. Book 1: The First Breakfast

**Hi guys! A bit shorter chapter this week, but, eh, it was a rough week. College is hard. (If you understand this reference, I salute you. :D)**

**I promise, the plot will start to pick up soon, just, currently, fluff and developing characters. And, you know, LOTS of interaction. :)**

**When I'm stressed, I read fluff. I apparently write fluff when I'm stressed too. Who knew?**

**Thanks to all those who favorited, followed, or reviewed! You guys are awesome!**

**I still don't own any of them. Such a sad sad fact. But without further ado!**

***0*0*0***

_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_

Book 1: The First Breakfast

"_Come on Granger, aren't you supposed to be the bright one? Why are you so stupid about such normal things?"_

_Running. She needed to catch up, but her books were dragging her down. The others were so far ahead, she couldn't even tell who they were anymore. Just their cruel, taunting voices echoed back to her…_

"_Know-it-all."_

"_No one likes you, Granger. You'll never catch up."_

"_Oh, watch her try to run on her short legs! It's so freakin' cute."_

Hermione shot up, her breath caught in her throat. She fought down a choked gasp, as, trembling, she pulled the sheets back up to cover her sweat-soaked self from where they were kicked at the base of the bed.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on regulating her breathing. _In, two, three. Hold, two, three. Out, two three…._

A few minutes later, she had calmed and Hermione gingerly moved the curtains between the beds to see if anyone else was up.

The dorm was silent. Not a single person stirred.

A glance out the window revealed that the sun was just peaking above the horizon. If she remembered properly, breakfast would be starting at 6am, which was about the time the sun rose.

Hermione tip toed around the dorm, gathering her clothes for the day and grinning at her robes with the new red trim and golden lion. Moving silently, she slid towards the door that was labeled 'Showers'.

Entering the room Hermione stared up at the large, curved, white tiled room. After the rest of the castle, she had expected something dark and enclosed, but this was brilliant, and Hermione couldn't wait to try it out.

*0*0*0*

Feeling much refreshed from her shower, Hermione walked downstairs with a bright grin on her face. She was pondering how the showers worked without electronics or plumbing. Certainly magic couldn't go against the very laws of nature, though it seemed to at times. Where did the water come from?

She was so preoccupied that she almost walked right through a ghost. She stopped short, apologizing to the ghost (who stalked off, her long hair swishing behind her in an invisible breeze). Glancing around, Hermione realized that she had managed to do one of the few things she had sworn not to do.

She was lost.

With a quiet groan, the bushy-haired first year turned on her heel and tried to retrace her steps to an area that she recognized.

After a few minutes, it became more and more obvious that Hermione was not going to magically find the right path. Actually, it seemed more like the castle was _trying_ to confuse her, with the staircases changing while she was halfway up them or just about to climb on.

She wanted to scream the third time this happened, and Hermione stomped her foot angrily as she quietly cursed at "Stupid confusing castles and stupid textbooks that don't provide _maps_ to said confusing castles…"

"Hermione?"

The Gryffindor spun on a heel, her wide eyes alighting on a figure who was standing half in shadow, her face glowing red as the words locked in her throat in mortification.

The other emerged from the shadows, and Hermione sighed in relief. "Gamora! Oh, I am so glad to see you.."

The green-skinned girl gifted her with a half-smirk as she replied, "I could tell by the annoyed stomping of your feet."

Hermione flushed, but couldn't help smiling when she saw Gamora's smirk turn into a larger smile. The other girl's eyes were glinting with amusement, but it didn't seem like the cruel humor that haunted Hermione's primary school years.

Then Gamora turned and strolled down the hallway, her feet moving soundlessly on the stone floor of the castle. Hermione almost tripped over her robes (they were so weird to move in. She really missed her regular trousers and shirts right now!), racing after Gamora. "W-wait for me," she said.

Gamora paused, turning to face Hermione, her face calm but with confused eyes. "I thought you were coming already, I apologize." She spoke, her voice becoming more structured and formal.

Hermione's hands flew in random, supposedly-soothing, gestures. "It's ok, just you were moving a lot faster than I can. How on earth do you move in robes so quickly? I swear, I trip every few minutes!"

Gamora relaxed a bit at Hermione's now-familiar nervous rambling, and began to walk with her, slower this time, leading them towards the breakfast hall with her eerie sense of direction.

*0*0*0*

As they walked into the Great Hall, Hermione was surprised to see almost no students there yet. There were one or two older Hufflepuffs, a handful of Ravenclaws, but the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables were currently barren.

Gamora noticed her confusion and gave a small smirk. "It _is_ only 6:30am, you know."

Hermione blinked. "That explains a lot." Suddenly realizing that the green-skinned girl would have to go to her own table and she'd be left alone again, Hermione quickly thought of a way to prolong the conversation and blurted out, "How'd you know what time it was? You don't have a watch, not that one would work here…"

"The benefits of being part elf is waking with the sun. The sun rose around a half hour ago and, at this time of year, the sun rises at approximately 6. Therefore, it's around 6:30," The girl explained as she strode down the lines of tables, Hermione following a few steps behind.

Gamora stopped abruptly and Hermione almost walked right into her. The half-elf turned towards her and asked, "Which table do you want to sit at? Mine or yours?"

Hermione blinked, surprised that Gamora actually wanted to sit with her. A brilliant smile flashed over her face, before it fell. "I don't think we're allowed to sit at House tables other than our own…"

"Why not? I don't remember seeing that rule."

Hermione opened her mouth, but then paused, running through _Hogwarts, A History_ in her mind. "Um… I think it's more of an unspoken rule. But we can't break rules!"

Gamora snorted. "We can break unspoken rules. They're not real, just silly things." And without any more conversation, she plopped herself down at the Gryffindor table. Hermione numbly sat next to her, and her smile began to grow as Gamora distracted her with questions about her family and history.

A while later, Hermione glanced up as she heard a screech of a sliding bench coming from across the table. She met the eyes of the huge boy from yesterday… Drax, she was pretty sure his name was.

"Greetings, Friend Hermione and Friend Gamora."

"Good morning, Drax," Hermione greeted him politely.

Gamora nodded to him, her mouth full of food. After swallowing, she spoke, "You know, calling us 'Friend' every time isn't necessary. Just our names would be fine."

Drax took that into consideration carefully before nodding. Hermione muffled a giggle at the overly serious look on the boy's face, but as Drax and Gamora both looked at her inquisitively, her giggles grew into a bright laugh.

It was a mixture of relief and joy that she actually had _friends_. Ones who would dare to break the unspoken rules of Hogwarts to sit with her in the Great Hall.

Hermione could almost feel the confused and slightly offended looks that her friends and her were drawing, but she couldn't help it.

As her laughter died down, she looked at them again. Gamora still looked serene, but her eyes held a glint of amusement in them, while Drax had a small smile on his face.

"You have a nice laugh." He said simply before digging in.

Hermione grinned at him and dug into her breakfast, more easily ignoring the searching looks from the newcomers in the Hall who were slowly filing in.

A clatter soon echoed from the doors to the Entrance Hall, and Hermione's head jerked up instinctively.

Peter was humming to himself as he strolled into the Hall after managing to trip and hit the already open doors. Seeing Hermione, Drax, and Gamora, his face brightened and he quickly moved to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the aghast looks from the Gryffindors.

"Hey guys!" Peter greeted them, sliding into the seat next to Drax and snitching a piece of bacon off his plate.

Drax stared at Peter, and Peter, after a few moments, slowly returned the bacon, smiling a bit more nervously. As Drax relaxed again and continued eating, the boy grinned across the table at the two girls.

Hermione giggled as Gamora shook her head at the two boys. The muggleborn was relieved. She had been witness to Ron's rant about 'dirty rotten Slytherins' last night, and, for a moment, she had been worried that Peter would have changed, now that he wore a green trim on his robes.

But he was still Peter. A bit goofy, a bit tone-deaf, and a bit too cheerful for his own good.

As the four turned to their plates, they silently agreed that conversation could wait until their bellies were full of the delicious breakfast in front of them.

Peter glanced up after polishing off his third (or fourth?) waffle, and yelled, "Harry!," spraying Gamora and Hermione with waffle bits from his mouth. The boy went very pale as the two girls slowly turned to him, Gamora's eyes as cold as ice and Hermione's flaring with fire.

Peter slowly stood up, and inched out of his seat. "…Sorry?" He offered, before turning and taking off like a bat out of hell towards the entrance to the Great Hall, with Hermione keeping pace on the other side of the table, and Gamora a little bit behind him after having leaped over the table.

Harry's mouth dropped open as Peter slid behind him and cowered behind the boy, yelling, "SORRY SORRY SORRY, DON'T KILL ME PLEASE!"

Harry blinked, confused at the two, panting, angry-eyed girls in front of him. He glanced behind him at the blond Slytherin, and he snorted in amusement.

"If you think I'm going to face down Gamora and Hermione for you, you're very wrong, mate." Harry said, stepping to the side and leaving the boy to the Hufflepuff's and Gryffindor's wrath.

Hermione stalked up next to Gamora and slapped the back of Peter's head – hard. The boy cringed, and then Gamora smacked the back of his head as well, and Peter glared up at both of them. "I _said_ I was sorry…" He muttered unhappily.

Hermione traded looks with Gamora, mutually deciding that they were done with their revenge at the moment and saying in unison, "Apology accepted."

Peter's only reaction was to turn to Harry and whisper, "They're scary."

Harry nodded as the pair of girls went back to their seats and the patient Drax who hadn't moved or stopped eating breakfast.

Peter grabbed Harry's sleeve, his face regaining its usual grin and started dragging Harry down towards the others. Harry rolled his eyes, but followed the other boy, when suddenly he was jerked the other direction by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Ron was glaring at Peter, his face flushed red as he spat, "What are _you_ doing here, snake?"

Peter looked back at Ron and blinked. "…Sitting? With my friends?"

"Why aren't you with the other of the prats at _your own_ table? Or is this a dare to try to make fools of us Gryffindors?"

Ron's face was twisted with hate, and Harry looked between the two, confused, before settling on Ron. "Mate, it's just Peter. He's no different than yesterday."

"He's a _Slytherin._ There's not a witch or wizard who went dark that wasn't in Slytherin, just like him!"

Peter narrowed his eyes, starting to get angry now, "We already talked about Ronan yesterday and he was from _your_ House, not mine. And I'm _not_ dark!"

Ron was about to growl out an answer when Harry pulled his sleeves free of both of them and waved at them. "Guys, guys! Stop it! Ron, Peter's the same person as yesterday and he's not going to suddenly turn evil just by being Sorted into Slytherin. The Hat almost put _me_ in Slytherin, and I'm not evil, so he doesn't have to be. So let's just… go eat, ok?"

Ron quieted, but as the threesome moved to the others, he was still glaring at Peter, though he also turned his dark look at the two Hufflepuffs as well. He was muttering under his breath, "Stupid Hufflepuffs and Slytherin sitting at _Gryffindor's_ table…"

Harry shoved Ron in the arm to quiet him, though Gamora, Drax and Peter were all glaring at him already.

Breakfast had turned into a cold affair, until the ice was broken abruptly by a rather sleepy Rocket jumping up next to Gamora and grabbing the bacon. He blinked at the group and they just looked back at him. "What?" He mumbled, his mouth full of delicious bacon.

Gamora snorted, Drax smiled, and slowly the entire group dissolved into laughter. Rocket growled, but ignored them in order to grab more food.

The silence in the group was definitely broken, but Hermione quietly noted in her mind that Ron still looked angry at the others when they weren't looking.

She was distracted when a large gray owl swooped down to the table, a clinking sac held in its claws. It landed with a loud clank as the sac hit one of the plates and opened, spilling an assortment of coins onto the table. Peter whooped cheerfully. "My winnings from the betting pool!"

At the confused looks from the others, Peter elaborated, "My family and I had a bet going on which House I'd be Sorted into, and I won." He quickly read the letter, before tucking it away in his robes and starting to gather the coins.

Hermione quickly moved to help and she and Rocket had soon collected the farthest falling coins, returning them safely to Peter, who was counting. She thought she caught a glimpse of Ron fidgeting with a few of the coins, but when Hermione turned her head, he was just sitting there sulking. Gamora just stared at Peter like he was insane and Drax and Harry shook their heads at their friends' antics.

A frown marred his face once all the coins were picked up. "They shortchanged me, irritating buggers." He muttered, "I bet it was Kraglin…" Peter stroked the owl's head before tying on a note.

"Be safe, Mila." He said quietly as the owl soared off.

After a few moments, they quietly watched the owl, before turning back to their conversations.

Hermione was talking to Drax about the differences between Muggle and Magical lifestyles, when she saw Ron's face light up with a giant grin.

Twisting her head, she looked where Ron's eyes were fixed and she saw the black-robed, stern-looking Professor McGonagall striding towards them purposely.

Turning back, Ron caught her eye and hissed, quietly enough that his voice was just a low murmur in the loud Hall, "Now you're in for it! Inviting all these other Houses to the Lion's table! McGonagall'll tear you a new one!"

Hermione tried to summon up the courage to glare, but she couldn't help the withering feeling inside. What if she got in trouble? It was her first day, she had so much to learn, and what if they threw her out! She couldn't go back to the Muggle world, always knowing that she would _never_ be able to truly fit in with her peers. Always knowing that there was something more that they could never know. It would kill her…

McGonagall came to a halt next to their group, her dark eyes flickering over them all rapidly. Then, against all odds, she _smiled._ A warm smile that Hermione hadn't ever really imagined on the older professor's hard face. "While I'm thrilled to see the inter-House interactions, today is the day that schedules are released by the Heads of House. We'll need all the non-Gryffindors to return to their House tables to receive their schedules. Five points to all the Houses though, for showing good will to others in the face of very old rivalries."

Hermione's face broke into a huge smile, and, glancing at Ron, saw that his entire face was flaming red and his jaw was dropped partially open in shock. She accepted her schedule as McGonagall handed them out to the three Gryffindors in the group before leaving to the next group of students. Feeling mischievous, Hermione stuck her tongue out at the red-haired (and faced!) boy. To her surprise, Peter also stuck his tongue out at him, and winked at her cheerfully. Harry looked at the blond boy, confused, while Gamora rolled her eyes at his immaturity (and hers). Drax blinked at them, and Rocket ignored them all in favor of bacon.

Ron glared at her, but Hermione, with her friends giving her smiles as they walked back to their own tables, couldn't care less. She smiled at her schedule, unable to contain her joy.

This was going to be an _interesting_ year.

***0*0*0***

**Haha, lots of Hermione this week! Not any Groot, sadly, but I'm pretty sure he'll make an appearance next week. Hopefully. xD**

**My sister and I developed the plan for the next few chapters, so, if everything goes as planned, it'll be a rather fun ride. ;)**

**I will do my best to keep to the schedule and to keep the chapter length up. But college is hard. And I have lots and lots of tests. So, I can make no promises. But I will try! I can promise that.**

**Review please!**

**See ya,**

**Scales**


	6. Book 1: The First Days

**Heyyy guys, guess who actually managed to write a chapter? **

**Haha, sorry, it's been a long week. I'm just glad it's finally Friday…**

**This chapter is a bit fillerish, sorry. The plot just didn't fit into this chapter, but hopefully it's still fun for you all to read! **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! You guys rock!**

**Still don't own them. Wish I did. For one thing, I probably wouldn't be freaking about a stupid Economics test…. Haha. Enjoy the chapter!**

***0*0*0***

_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_

Book 1: The First Days

Rocket ran his claws through the fur on his head, muttering in annoyance as his tail swished down the corridor. His schedule, of freakin' _course_, was incredibly complicated and, since he was raised in a stupid hospital full of insane people, he had no idea how to properly read it.

So he was reduced to this, skulking at the back of his group of Housemates, when he'd rather be much farther away from them. Plus, he was lugging this goddamn bag which he was pretty sure was as heavy as he was, which was killing his shoulders (_and back, and legs, and tail_).

He could _feel_ their damn stares heating up his fur as he struggled with his bag, and his fur bristled in response. It took all his willpower not to snarl at their damn faces and get them to _stop looking at me like I'm an experiment, I'm not, I'm not, I'm human…_

Finally, they arrived at the stupid Charms classroom. Rocket hurried to a back desk, unwilling to deal with the scrutiny of his peers. Dropping his bag, Rocket jumped up onto the chair and then realized that he had a problem.

If he sat down, the desk edge would be above his head, and he wouldn't be able to see anything. Wracking his brains for a solution, the raccoon-boy's eyes landed on his discarded bag. He grimaced. The books and the bag were definitely large enough to give him the boost he needed, but his body ached just from thinking about trying to lift it that high. He could _try_ to use one of the spells he had learned from his books, but his spells were, er, unreliable in whether they'd work or not. He'd perform the spell perfectly, feel his magic start to spark and then sometimes it would just… die off within the wand. He didn't know why or how, but it made him hesitate to use magic to solve the problem.

The murmuring of the other Ravenclaw first years increased, and Rocket grit his teeth. He wouldn't be surprised if they were talking about him, and his was fiercely glad that his fur hid the flush of embarrassment that flooded his skin. He was _not_ some baby who needed help. He could do this on his own!

Rocket leaped down, ignoring the slight pain in his joints as he landed on the stone floor. Pushing back the black sleeves of his robe, Rocket dug his claws into the leather of the bag and hoisted it up, his tail swishing madly with effort.

"My dear boy, may I help you?"

Rocket instinctively twisted towards the noise in alarm, overbalancing with the bag, and tripping backwards over his own tail and falling onto his back with an _oomph_.

He blinked up at the one who had spoken, but his eyes got sidetracked by his bag floating above him, having been caught magically by the other person before it could squash him more.

Rocket's black eyes moved from the bag to the short professor standing next to him, looking down worriedly. Rocket scrambled to his feet (_claws_), brushing off his robes with his nervous foreclaws.

He took a better look at the professor now. He was short, shorter than most of the first years, though still taller than Rocket himself. His nose twitched. His scent wasn't pure human, there was.. was that goblin? Another sniff. Yep, definitely goblin. The scent reminded him of Gringotts and the cold eyes of the goblins there.

The professor smiled at him softly. "I am Professor Flitwick, dear boy, let me help you with this." With an easy swish of his wand, a few books left his bag, landing perfectly on the chair so Rocket would be at the perfect height, and the rest of his bag moved seamlessly to lean neatly against the leg of his desk. With a glance at Rocket, Flitwick tapped the bag twice more, before turning back to raccoon-boy.

"I gave your bag and books some Feather-Light charms, as well as a shrinking charm for the bag, so it won't be such a hassle to carry, my boy." The professor smiled gently at him, before continuing, "I know the troubles of being smaller than the designed size, and you'll hurt yourself if you try to carry too much weight. Now, better get ready, dear boy! Class will start soon!" With a soft pat on Rocket's shoulder, the tiny professor disappeared towards his podium.

Rocket blinked after him, unsure how to react. No one had ever done something like that. Gingerly, Rocket tried to lift his bag, and it lifted right away. His eyes widened. Professor Flitwick had told the _truth_ and had helped Rocket.

And, the biggest thing for Rocket, there had been no pity in his eyes. Just understanding and warmth.

Rocket grinned as he jumped up to his new perch, putting his quills and such on the table as his tail twitched impatiently for class to begin.

There was a scrape of a chair next to him, and Rocket saw one of his quiet Housemates standing there, an awkward smile on his face. "D-do you mind if I sit here?"

Rocket grunted before turning back towards the front. The boy sat next to him quietly before speaking again. "My name's Terry Boot. I-I saw you reading our textbook in the dormitory last night, um, and I wanted to ask, do you understand the levitation spell? I don't understand how we're supposed to picture it.."

Rocket turned again, studying the boy. He felt his resolve to ignore his Housemates waver before his desire to show off his knowledge. The boy _looked_ sincere, and it couldn't hurt to try to befriend someone in his dorm (the last night had been rather awkward, with some of the boys hopelessly staring and others trying to treat him like a _pet_). He saw the first-year Gryffindors start to trail in and when Hermione waved, Rocket waved back before finally replying, "The name's Rocket Raccoon. As far as I can tell, the levitation spell depends primarily on enunciation and…"

*0*0*0*

Gamora strolled through the hallways next to Drax, her hair held back in a neat braid. With a few days of classes under her belt, she was starting to feel more confident. However, while she appeared completely relaxed, she was on edge. They had just been in class with the Slytherins, and while Peter had waved at them and been incredibly happy to see them, Malfoy had been a foul, cruel creature.

Peter's smile had died a bit at Malfoy's words as he shot a glare and a sharp remark towards the boy, but Gamora had caught a flash of something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. It had served to put her on edge, though Peter had reassured her that he was "Fine, never better! To make up for the shortchanging of Kraglin, Yondu sent me a new mixtape with some songs, and they're _awesome!"_

Gamora had smiled and made a mocking remark towards Peter (before he started singing again – the boy really needed some lessons or she needed a silencing spell to stop him), but she couldn't help the feeling that something was a bit off with the Slytherin boy. He was different than he had been those first few days, but Gamora couldn't put her finger on what the change was.

Gamora shook her head. Peter was fine and she was probably imagining it. Her childhood had left her overly suspicious, and she was trying to leave that all in the past. She was imagining things, that was all.

They were entering their first Herbology class, and, if she had read her schedule correctly, this was a class with the-

"Gamora! Drax!"

-Gryffindors. "Hello, Hermione. How are you?"

The Gryffindor girl was smiling brightly at the Hufflepuff. "Hi guys, I'm good! We were just in Transfiguration, and it was brilliant!"

Drax smiled lightly at Hermione's overenthusiasm, and nodded to Harry and Ron who had come up behind her. Ron was tugging Harry towards the front, talking about this really cool living plant that he had heard about from his brothers.

Gamora glanced at Ron, her brow furrowed. It sure sounded like him, but Ron couldn't be talking about-

"I am _Groot!"_

Gamora couldn't help the small smile that took root as she turned her head and saw the gigantic tree creature lumbering towards her. She could almost feel Drax stiffen in wariness and Harry and Ron stared in awe before they had to move to keep from getting trampled. Hermione was speechless (actually speechless! Gamora hadn't thought she'd ever see the day…) as Groot lumbered closer.

Since she had seen the familiar tree in the front of the room, she had expected some sort of greeting.

She had not expected _this._

"Groot, put me down!"

"I am Groot!"

The tree had lifted her up in a hug and Gamora's arms were pinned to her side while her feet swung a good half a meter from the ground. With a grumble, the elf girl wriggled impatiently, but the tree refused to budge.

"Groot…. Put me down _now_. Or I won't come back with Rocket during dinner."

Groot gently placed Gamora on her feet with a last, "I _am_ Groot." (She was willing to bet that Groot had muttered the equivalent of "You _better_ come see me," but Rocket was the one who could actually understand the tree creature.)

Gamora rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to talk to Groot, when she was interrupted by a strangled squeak. Gamora glanced over.

Hermione had her hand clasped over her mouth, her face bright red with the effort it took not to start blurting out questions.

Gamora grinned. "You can ask questions, but you'd be better off asking Rocket. He can actually understand the big lug."

Hermione removed her hand from her mouth and the questions poured effortlessly from her lips. "How can you understand him? Can he understand us? Can he say anything else? Where did he come from? _What is he?_ How do you know him? Why-"

The green-skinned girl shook her head, amused, as her hand firmly planted itself on Hermione's endless flow of questions. "On the other hand, you'd be better off waiting to ask Rocket. He actually can understand Groot's speech. Groot does understand us though."

Hermione nodded, slightly dejected by not getting answers right away. Groot said "I am Groot," apologetically, before offering them a pair of flowers: one a deep maroon and one a cheerful yellow. Hermione accepted the maroon flower happily, while Gamora picked up the bright yellow flower. Groot had always given her bright yellow flowers, even while they were living in the Forest with Rocket. She smiled softly. It was nice to see that some things could stay the same.

"How the bloody hell do you know _that thing?"_

Gamora turned her head towards where Harry and Ron had approached and growled at the Weasley boy, "Groot is _not_ a thing." She hesitated, "I'm not really sure _what_ he is, but I can assure you, he does not like being called a _thing._"

Groot grumbled in agreement, as Ron flushed bright red and stayed stubbornly silent. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, before stepping forward, "Er…Mr. Groot? I'm sorry for my friend's behavior, he, uh, didn't mean any offense."

Drax nodded in agreement, while looking closely at the giant tree.

Groot nodded with a warm, "I am Groot," before patting Harry on the head. Harry looked so confused, that Gamora couldn't help but snort in amusement. Groot looked at her with a grin and patted her hair as well, making the boys, who were already snickering, break out into bright laughter. Hermione was giggling along, and Gamora swiped at her playfully.

Gamora pushed Groot's arm away, straightening her braid. "Anyway, guys, this is Groot. Groot, this is Harry, Ron, Drax, and Hermione." She pointed to each of them in turn, before turning back to Groot, "I'm assuming you've already seen Rocket and met Peter? I think they mentioned having Herbology before we did."

"I am Groot," he said as he nodded. Gamora grinned at him brightly.

Drax's brow furrowed. "I do not understand. Where are you getting meaning from his speech? It is the same three words."

Gamora looked at her Housemate, "He puts a lot of different emotions into it, so I can kind of understand what he's trying to say. Rocket can actually understand him, oddly enough." As Drax nodded, still looking highly perplexed (which wasn't uncommon for him), she turned back to Groot, "Maybe me and Rocket can try to get in here after classes on Friday, if we don't get assigned _yet another_ essay…"

The others groaned in perfect unison at the memory of the boatload of homework that they had already been assigned, and Gamora shot them an amused look. "Did you guys practice that?"

Groot let out an odd sound (a laugh? Who even knew…) and smiled at them, but then Professor Sprout was coming towards them, scolding Groot for making a nuisance of himself, and the tree retreated to the front of the greenhouse (she was sure she had seen him roll his eyes – Groot had been spending far too much time with Rocket, apparently).

Quickly, the class followed suit, moving to seats in the large greenhouse, splitting down the middle by House, so all the Hufflepuffs lined one side and all the Gryffindors settled along the other.

Well, except for a large twelve year old Hufflepuff who was seated next to Harry Potter and the green-skinned Hufflepuff who reclined next to Hermione.

Gamora could feel the stares on her as she sat next to her Gryffindor friend, but she steadily ignored them. She trusted Hermione more than anyone else in her House, minus Drax, and Drax was already next to Harry, ignoring Ron's complaints about how it was 'his' seat.

Groot had returned to the front of the greenhouse, sinking his feet (or bottom roots, or whatever they were called) into a patch of soil with a happy "I am Groot." He turned and waved at Gamora and she, along with Drax, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, waved back.

She could've sworn that she saw Professor Sprout roll her eyes, but the Hufflepuff Head of House was already moving to start the lesson, introducing them to the world of herbology.

Gamora listened, her fingers idly spinning the brilliant yellow flower that Groot had given her, as she attempted to absorb the information being thrown at them.

*0*0*0*

The next morning, Harry rose groggily, stumbling out of his bed. He was exhausted, but the deep warmth of enthusiasm had not abated. He glanced at Ron, wondering whether it was worth trying to wake him up. The red-haired boy had proven to be rather difficult to wake in the mornings, and, with a glance at the clock, Harry realized that he was already later than he usually was.

At this rate, they'd be the last ones to breakfast, and that was saying something, since Rocket tended to come in with only fifteen minutes left of breakfast and just shove his face full of bacon before disappearing off to class.

Harry grimaced. If they came in after Rocket, Peter was going to tease them so much…

Harry grabbed Ron's blankets and pulled them off, leaving the other boy groping for them in his sleep. The black haired boy moved closer and shook Ron's shoulder. "Ron! Come on, mate, we're gonna be late! At this rate, we're going to come in after _Rocket._ Come _on!_"

The other boy sleepily murmured and moved his arms in an attempt to rise, before letting them fall and turning away from Harry. The boy was muttering, "Stupid… raccoon… cauldron cakes… mm…"

Harry gave a sigh of annoyance and mentally wished he knew the water spell that Rocket and Hermione had been 'debating' about. (It was more like they were attempting to prove that they each knew more, but since it ended with both of them falling off the bench at the Gryffindor table, laughing, Harry decided it was more like a friendly debate than the almost-to-blows conflict that it sounded like). That would be a nice spell to wake up Ron…

With a sigh, Harry said, "I tried, mate. Now you're on your own," before throwing his robes on and running. After a week of getting lost he was _almost_ sure that he knew where he was going. Hopefully that was good enough so he could get to breakfast before all the bacon had disappeared into Rocket's endless gullet (where on Earth did he even put all of it..?).

With only one wrong turn and a quick correction, Harry arrived at the Great Hall, still panting slightly, and scanning the tables for his friends. He saw a waving green hand from the Hufflepuff table and moved towards it. Everyone except Ron and him was already seated, though Peter was cat napping on the table and Rocket's eyes were half closed as he mechanically put different types of breakfast meat into his mouth.

Harry slid into the seat that Drax had saved for him, giving everyone a grin as the muttered greetings to him. Harry quickly grabbed the remaining bacon (ignoring the dark look that Rocket shot in his direction) and other food, before looking across the table at Peter and, with a mischievous smile, picked up one of his carrots, intending on tossing it onto the sleeping boy.

Suddenly, Peter's eyes cracked open, flashing towards Harry, as he mumbled, "Don't you dare."

"How do you _do_ that?" Harry asked, slightly awed.

"Skills."

Drax looked at Peter across the table as well. "How did you train these skills? Is there a particular exercise that must be practiced?"

Peter sat up slowly before stretching, cracking his back. "Try having annoying family members who like to play pranks on you when you're asleep," He yawned hugely, "That helps develop them a lot."

Drax's eyes darkened for a moment before he nodded quietly and returned to his food. Peter grimaced and Harry felt the swish of his robes as Peter tapped his foot against Drax's shin in a silent apology.

Harry was quickly distracted by Gamora's conversation with Hermione about different types of herbs that were typically found in forests, with Rocket occasionally injecting comments.

Peter chuckled quietly, "Seen any more Groots out there?"

Gamora shook her head and Hermione, grinning brightly, "Nope! I'm not sure exactly what species he is, but I haven't heard any mention of them in any of my books! It's fascinating!" She turned to Rocket, "That reminds me, Gamora said you could understand him? Do you mind translating some answers for me when I talk to him?"

Rocket, after a large yawn, which showed off his very white, very pointy teeth (_fangs_), shrugged. "Sure. Gamora already promised tha' me an' her would go visit today after classes. Groot won' care that you come too."

Hermione's smile, somehow, became even brighter.

Harry shook his head at them, trading smiles with an amused looking Drax and opening his mouth to ask to come along (if only to see Groot's confused look when Hermione bombarded him with questions), before a familiar white owl landed in front of him.

"Hedwig! Hi girl!" Harry smiled and stroked the soft feathers gently, before seeing the letter tied to her leg.

Hedwig stood patiently, allowing him to remove the letter. Once Harry's fumbling fingers had released it, she darted forward and snatched a piece of bacon off Rocket's plate.

"You damn bird! Give that back!" Rocket screeched, before his speech melted into odd chitters.

The entire group looked at him blankly as he continued to chitter at the white owl, who hooted back at him arrogantly before swallowing the bacon down deliberately.

Rocket nearly launched himself at the bird before Drax caught the back of his robes and stopped him. The large boy looked confused. "Friend Rocket, what are you doing? Are you… speaking to the bird?"

Rocket snorted. "My name is just Rocket, Drax. And, duh. The damn bird stole my bacon!"

Harry, who was thoroughly distracted from his letter at this point, spoke, "You… can talk to birds. To Hedwig."

Rocket rolled his eyes, his tail swishing in annoyance. "Yea', benefits of being a' animal yourself is being able to understand their speech. Makes it a hell of a lot easier to understand everything else."

Silence followed that pronouncement before Peter broke it with a simple remark. "That is _awesome!"_

Rocket gave one last glare at Hedwig before sitting back down and protectively pulling his plate closer. Hermione immediately peppered him with questions, and Rocket attempted to answer the ones he could understand (the girl could speak _really_ fast).

Harry was distracted by the verbal tennis match going on by Ron sliding into the seat next to him. The red-haired boy looked singularly disgruntled at having to sit at the Hufflepuff table, but at least he wasn't saying anything about it this time.

"Wassat, Harry?"

Harry looked down at the letter – which looked more like a note – in his hands and said, "Not sure, haven't opened it yet."

He opened it and read:

"_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid"_

Harry grinned and looked up at his friends. "Hagrid's invited me for tea this afternoon! Do you guys want to come?"

Gamora frowned, "Sorry, Rocket and I already promised Groot that we'd come visit, and I think Hermione'll spontaneously combust if she doesn't get to get some answers."

"Well, I'll go." Peter volunteered.

"It would be an honor to accompany you." Drax said.

Ron just nodded through a mouthful of food.

Harry pulled out his schedule and scanned Friday again. "Looks like we just have double Potions before that, with the Slytherins."

Peter seemed to brighten up. "Sweet, that'll be awesome." He grinned.

Harry smiled back as Ron cautioned Harry, with a glare towards Peter, "I dunno, Snape is always biased against people who aren't _Snakes_. Especially us Lions."

Peter waved his hand, ignoring the quiet jab that Ron had insinuated, "I'm sure it won't be _that _bad. I mean, everything gets exaggerated sometimes."

*0*0*0*

**GROOOOOOOOT! :D**

**Haha, sorry. I'm happy he finally got introduced (though Gamora's part of this chapter was fighting me tooth and nail this week..).**

**I actually wrote the last part of this chapter today so it's not quite as edited as it usually is, haha.**

**By the way, I've never written Flitwick before, so I'm hoping I got his voice right. Or close enough. If any of you guys are Flitwick masters, please comment and tell me how I did!**

**Please review! I love reading your comments!**

**See ya,**

**Scales**


	7. Book 1: The Potion Lesson

**I managed to write a chapter and pass my Economics test! Woot woot!**

**Tis been a long week, haha.**

**Thank you for reviews (I'm looking at you, Useful), favorites, and follows, guys!**

**IMPORTANT NOTE: Next Friday, I will be driving back home from my college, which is a good 6 hours AFTER classes are over. So I may collapse after that and not get a new chapter out until Saturday or Sunday. Long drives are long and tiring.**

**I still am not JK Rowling, shockingly enough. And I don't own the Guardians either.**

**Enjoy!**

***0*0*0***

_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_

Book 1: The Potion Lesson

Peter had never been so wrong before.

Because he was.

_So_ so wrong.

The classroom had noticeably dropped in temperature as soon as Snape had strolled into his classroom and locked eyes on the mass of red ties that filled half of his classroom.

Peter leaned forward, catching Harry's eyes from several seats down and he mouthed, _'I am so sorry.'_

Harry blinked at him, looking confused, and Peter gave an apologetic sigh. He really needed to teach this kid some tricks about body language… Though maybe not, then he'd lose his advantage. It was a wonder Rocket and Gamora hadn't immediately noticed, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. They didn't need to know. He was fine. He could deal with _them_ himself.

Peter was shaken out of his ponderings by Snape (overdramatically, though it did have the added benefit of knocking the thuggish Crabbe awake from his contented doze) slamming doors and shutters closed with one sweep of his wand. Why there were even shutters in a dungeon, Peter wasn't exactly sure, but he wasn't _quite_ willing to face Snape's murderous eyes if he asked. (He had a tentative theory that was rapidly becoming more likely that it had to do with Snape's urge to be dramatic…)

Snape was reading the names in a condescending drawl, when he paused and spoke rather carefully. "Harry… Potter. Our new – _celebrity_. Malfoy and his goons snickered as Harry reddened with embarrassment, and Peter gave them a glare, which was ruined by a large yawn.

Professor Snape soon dropped the scroll of names onto his desk with a sneer before (overdramatically) strutting to the front of the class. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly shimmering…"

Peter couldn't help but start to tune Snape out. He was making potions sound creepier rather than more attractive (though he knew Rocket had been nearly foaming at the mouth in enthusiasm for Potions – Peter would be more worried about the fact, but it was Rocket. They may have only known each other a week, but Peter knew that Rocket loved making explosions (that had been an interesting lunch) more than he liked screwing with people's heads).

Peter was jolted out of his musings by a sharp, "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Peter blinked at Snape. He vaguely knew those ingredients, but he had no idea, and, from the slightly-terrified look on Harry's face, he didn't have a clue either. Hermione was holding her hand up in the air, a bright look in her eyes, while Ron just looked disgusted at Snape.

"I don't know, sir," Harry admitted quietly.

Snape sneered at him, completely ignoring Hermione's almost-but-not-quite-waving hand, "Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything." His sneer turned into an almost-smirk, "Let's try again. Ptter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Peter knew this one, but only because Yondu had drilled preservation tactics into his head since he was old enough to start coming on raids (he may or may not have one hidden in his bunk in the Slytherin dorm – he wasn't paranoid, just reasonably cautious with the two goons of Malfoy's as his roommates. Though they probably wouldn't be smart enough to manage to poison him in his room anyway…).

Harry was looking even more confused and worried and he was cringing from the laughter coming from the other Slytherins. Peter narrowed his eyes at Snape. His Head of House or not, Snape didn't have the right to treat Harry like this. Time to put the supposed Slytherin immunity from Snape to the test.

Just as Harry opened his mouth to admit that he once again didn't know, Peter started to talk, "Professor-"

"Quiet." Snape snapped, not looking away from Harry, with a cruel gleam in his eyes.

"But Professor-"

Snape's head swiveled towards Peter like a snake latching onto a new target. "I. Said. Quiet." He almost hissed.

Peter blinked his big brown eyes, pulling the 'innocent' façade on that he used with the Ravagers on their raids, "But sir, isn't that a third year level question? I remember my guardians talking about it when they were reminiscing about Hogwarts." And they may have been heavily drunk at the time, but Peter was pretty sure that they had actually spoken the truth.

Snape's eyes narrowed on Peter, his focus now coldly placed on Peter. "Mister... _Quill._ I believe I asked you to be _quiet"._

Without waiting for a response, Snape turned back towards Harry and snapped, "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane? _That_ was in your textbook, if you even bothered to open it before coming."

Harry's fear had faded with the pause in Snape's attention, and now the green eyes were narrowed with anger in response. Peter gave a silent sigh, wishing that he could have at least bought Harry an extra minute. Hermione's hand was in the air, but her brow was furrowed. She was looking between Harry and Snape, who now seemed like they were caught in a glaring contest.

Hesitantly, Hermione spoke, "Professor-"

Snape snapped, "_Quiet._ That will be ten points from Gryffindor, Ms. Granger, for speaking out of turn. Now, _put your hand down._"

Hermione had paled drastically, and her hand silently dropped to her side, her head bowing down over her desk and notes.

Peter looked at her worriedly, before looking back at Harry, who's eyes were spitting green fire at this point. He spoke nearly as coldly as Snape did, "I don't know, sir, but Hermione does. Why don't you ask her?"

Some brave (foolish) souls chuckled as Snape snarled out the answers before removing an additional point from Harry for his cheek.

The rest of the class passed in near silence, and Peter couldn't help glancing over at his friends every few minutes, worried. He managed to save Neville's kettle from exploding by lunging and knocking the porcupine quills from the other boy's hands. While Seamus looked at him with confusion and wariness (another Slytherin hater, Peter guessed), Neville's face smoothed into a tiny, thankful smile after Peter quietly explained.

Both Gryffindors were looking at him with a new light in their eyes, but Peter had already moved on to checking on his friends again.

Harry was still glaring at his potion, Ron was still red with anger in his face, though he kept glaring at Hermione too.

Hermione hadn't even looked up from her potion since Snape had ripped her down.

Peter grimaced. Could this class have gone worse?

*0*0*0*

Finally, potions was over.

Peter immediately moved to his trio of Gryffindor friends. He tapped Harry on the shoulder with a grimace. "I'm sorry, mate. I had no idea he was quite so…"

"Jerkish?" Harry volunteered with a small smile. "It's alright, not your fault. You at least gave me a moment to gather my thoughts at the beginning." His brow furrowed. "Are you going to be ok? I mean, he is your Head of House. Can he or the other Slytherins make trouble for you?"

Peter's eyes slid from Harry's suddenly probing ones. "I'll be fine, I mean, what can they really do to me?" He inwardly grimaced, dreading his inevitable return to the dungeons. Malfoy and his goons would hate that a Slytherin tried to help Harry and he had almost felt their glares when he helped Neville.

Peter didn't give Harry a chance to catch his lie as he jogged up next to Hermione and Ron. He slung an arm over Hermione's shoulder, smiling brightly.

"So, you want me to be really mouthy and annoying next class? I'm sure I can badger one of the teachers into removing ten points."

Hermione's lips curled into the barest hint of a smile. "We don't have any more classes today." She murmured softly.

"So, Monday then! It's a plan!"

Finally, Hermione actually did smile, and Peter gave an internal sigh of relief. Hermione not being bright and questioning everything had just felt _weird_, and he could see her shaking off the pain of losing her first House Points.

A couple meaningless points was well worth that.

"Plus, you're going with Gamora and Rocket to see Groot today, right?"

Hermione was beaming again, a skip appearing in her stride. "Yeah, it's going to be great!"

Peter grinned as they made their way towards the entrance.

*0*0*0*

Drax was waiting patiently at the Ravenclaw table, with Rocket and Gamora seated near him. Rocket was gesturing excitedly with his foreclaws, speaking rapidly.

Drax was not a stupid boy, but Rocket was managing to speak fast enough that the words were merging together into a single rush of sound, and Drax had resorted to just nodding his head at the appropriate places and continuing to eat. He traded looks with Gamora, who had a small smile on her face, looking amused.

Suddenly, Rocket had face planted into his lunch, a large great horned owl having landed on his back.

The owl gave a self-satisfied chirp before jumping off Rocket's back and screeching at him. Rocket raised his head, his ears back in annoyance. "Ya flipping bird! I'm gonna kill ya!"

The owl jumped neatly away from Rocket's foreclaws before hooting haughtily at him.

Drax looked at the raccoon-boy. "I do not think people approve of killing owls here."

Rocket shot him an exasperated look. "I wasn't _serious_. And I'd like to see them stop me."

Gamora snorted, murmuring to herself softly.

Rocket stuck his tongue out, apparently having heard her. Drax supposed that there was some benefits from having the body of a raccoon.

Drax blinked in utter surprise though as Rocket willing gave over one of his bacon strips to the owl. (He hadn't even realized that bacon was still served at lunch until the Ravenclaw had paced the entire Hall, sniffing, before stealing the platter from a group of confused, older Gryffindors.)

Gamora was also staring in shock, before clearing her throat and saying, "Well, are you going to introduce your friend? Not all of us speak owl."

Rocket rolled his eyes and, gesturing with a claw, he introduced, "Gamora, Drax, this is Rael, my idiot owl." Rocket was immediately buffeted with a wing from the owl.

"She is beautiful."

The owl fluffed happily at Drax's words before launching herself onto his shoulder, carefully landing so her talons did not sink into his shoulder. Drax smiled at the beautiful creature before stroking her feathers ever so lightly. The owl gave a tug on his ear before hooting at Rocket and flapping away.

Drax turned to Gamora. "I do not understand why she tugged my ear."

"Pretty sure she was saying thanks for the complement."

"Oh."

The others arrived at the Great Hall at that moment. Drax noted that Harry, Hermione, and Peter all seemed quieter than normal, but then Peter made a comment, gesturing wildly with his hands, and the other two snorted at him while Ron rolled his eyes.

The four approached them and slid into various seats. Peter immediately grabbed an apple off the plate, took a big bite, and then leaned his head on his other arm with a large yawn.

Harry paused, glancing at the clock. "You guys want to head to Hagrid's soon? I'm not overly hungry."

Ron shrugged, already placing food in his mouth. Drax nodded his agreement, finishing the last of his sandwich, while Peter let out a low groan before opening his half-closed eyes and stretching upwards. "Sure, if you want."

The four slid away from the table, grabbing their various bags before waving goodbye to the other three of their group. Rocket waved a piece of bacon at them while Hermione reminded them, "Don't forget about getting back in before curfew, or you'll get in trouble," and Gamora nodded her goodbye.

*0*0*0*

'_Hagrid's cottage seems rather… small for a man who appeared at least a quarter giant'_, Drax mused to himself as he sat at the round table in Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid had admitted all four boys into his hut with only a blink of surprise when he registered the yellow of Drax's trimmings and the green of Peter's. The great boarhound obviously had no reservations between the two, first attacking Ron with licks before moving on to Harry and then to Peter (who was completely knocked over by the affectionate dog and hadn't been able to get away until Drax moved the dog forcibly).

Fang was now sitting with his head happily in Drax's lap as Drax carefully stroked the dog's sensitive ears.

As Harry introduced them, Hagrid eyed Peter oddly, and Drax frowned. "Why are you frowning at Peter?"

Hagrid jolted, apparently just realizing that he had been staring. "Er, sorry, didna mean to. Just not common to see a Slytherin openly interactin' w' other Houses."

"But Peter is our friend. Why would he not interact with us?"

Peter grimaced before returning to his default grin and patting Drax on the shoulder, "It's alright, Drax. I've gotten that response a lot so far and we're barely a week in!"

Hagrid simply nodded before inquiring of Harry's first day of classes. After hearing of the Potions fiasco, he seemed to relax towards Peter, since Harry had made a point of emphasizing Peter attempting to divert Snape's attention from him and saving Neville from an exploding cauldron.

Drax still frowned at this, not liking that Hagrid had just judged Peter based on his robes at first. He placed that to the side though as Ron started describing his brother Charlie's job with dragons. Drax had to admit it sounded amazing, and he found it mildly entertaining that Hagrid appeared to be almost entranced by the stories.

But when Harry snorted softly and muttered, "He's practically swooning over them," with his voice full of entertained affection, Drax was confused.

"He does not appear to be faint or in danger of passing out. I do not understand."

Harry grinned at Drax. "It's just an expression."

Drax nodded, placing that in the mental category for metaphors. It was growing swiftly and Drax still didn't understand all the references, which was frustrating.

He could hear Peter snickering though, and, without looking, managed to kick Peter's chair and unbalance it. For anyone else, the angle would have been too debilitating to actually have any force behind the kick, but Drax was not a normal person.

Peter waved his arms, as his chair shifted wildly, trying to recover his balance, but he had reacted a moment too late and with a _crash_, he landed hard on the floor.

Hagrid rapidly turned his head to look at him, as did Ron and Harry, and Peter grinned, embarrassed, from the floor. Drax smirked as Peter stuck his tongue out at him.

"Like the bloody Hulk," Peter muttered to himself, and Drax had to stop himself from saying that his name wasn't the Hulk and who was he referring to? He didn't want to give the other boy more ammo when his bright eyes were already glinting with mischief.

Hagrid snorted through his beard before smiling broadly at the four of them. "Ya guys remind me of anotha' group o' troublemakers that I knew a long time ago."

Before any of them could inquire why or who, Hagrid had already turned back to Ron and was asking about the dragons once more.

Peter caught Drax's eye as he sat up and grinned brightly. However, as he set his chair back up, his eyes landed on the newspaper and his grin faded.

"Someone broke into Gringotts!" He blurted out, surprised. "That's not easy!"

A moment of silence.

"…Not that I know anything about that…"

Harry rolled his eyes at Peter and picked up the paper. He frowned thoughtfully, before glancing up at Hagrid with curious eyes. "That happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there, Hagrid!"

Drax noted that Hagrid's black eyes slid away from Harry's, and Peter frowned. Harry glanced between the two and gave a small nod at them. Even Drax understood the implicit meaning; Harry would tell them later.

The rest of the afternoon passed in amiable conversation until the four boys finally returned to castle, ambling up towards the castle in the fading sun.

*0*0*0*

In one of the quietest, smallest greenhouses, silence resounded.

A large tree-creature was sitting on the ground, his legs crooked away from his body and his arms spread outwards and growing with leafy branches.

The green-elf girl was seated in the crook of one of the tree's arms, staring up at the raccoon-boy on the tree's other shoulder. The girl was screwing up her face into different expressions while staying completely silent.

Another girl with bushy-brown hair was seated on one of the tree-creature's bent legs. She was grinning at the pair who were making ridiculous expressions at each other. Her shoulders were trembling with suppressed giggles, and her hands were locked over her mouth.

The pair on the main part of the tree creature exchanged a look before turning their expressions on the bushy-haired girl.

The girl fought it, but she couldn't stop the snort of laughter breaking out.

Immediately, the elf-girl and the raccoon-boy pointed at her and yelled.

"YOU LOSE THE GAME!"

"I am Groot," the tree nodded sagely.

All four dissolved into giggles, filling the small greenhouse with laughter.

*0*0*0*

**Yes. I went there.**

**C'mon guys, they were playing the quiet game. They're eleven years old and immature. **

**I couldn't resist. :D**

**So review, wish me luck on tests, be awesome to each other, and party on, dudes!**

**(Shh, I am a nerd, I know.)**

**See ya,**

**Scales**


	8. Book 1: The Flight and the Duel

**So… this is a few days late. But it's long?**

**Haha, sorry. It's been a rather hellish week. I won't bore you with the details, but I feel lucky that I survived. And then this chapter fought me, which was just annoying. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and/or followed! You guys are the best!**

**They're still not mine. I'm just having fun. :) **

**Enjoy!**

***0*0*0***

_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_

Book 1: The Flight and the Duel

Harry couldn't stop glancing at the time during lunch, fidgeting. Finally, _finally_, he was going to get to try a real _flying broomstick!_ He had only ever dreamed of flying rarely and actually riding a broomstick was somehow more fantastical than going to a school for witches and wizards, even with the stories that Peter, Drax, and Ron had told him.

Of course, he would have gotten to do this a week earlier, but an, er, _accident_ had occurred.

The Weasley twins walked past their group, speaking loudly with their sly eyes sliding to the group of multi-Housed first years, grinning and gesturing emphatically, "That was _such_ a good prank last week! Knocking every first-year-approved broom out of commission-"

-And no one knows who did it! I wonder which firstie was responsible.."

Harry kept his eyes carefully on his food, ignoring the twins until they passed. Once they were gone though, his composure broke a bit and he glared at the furry Ravenclaw across from him.

The raccoon-boy was pouting (Harry hadn't even known that a raccoon's muzzle could form a pout before now), and Peter, having stirred from his cat-nap, was now giggling, his hazy blue eyes blinking to try to clear the shadows that Harry could still see on them.

Drax was simply watching him with a smirk and Gamora was ignoring them all with an air of exasperation.

Finally, Rocket burst out in a harsh whisper, "I didn't mean to!"

Gamora raised one eyebrow, looking at him. "Rocket, you managed to _explode a potion_ that _destroyed all navigation on the broomsticks._ If one of the Quidditch teams hadn't been walking by, we may have lost some of the other first-years to the uncontrollable brooms."

"The potion was stable! It wasn't going to cause any problems…"

"Even carrying around a potion outside of Potions is against the rules, Rocket." Hermione said stiffly.

Rocket twitched his tail and sneered, "Pff, _rules_."

"Yes, _rules._" Hermione, Drax, Gamora, and Harry all replied in exasperated unison. Peter was resting his head on his arms, half asleep again, and Ron was just glaring at Rocket like he wanted to set the other first-year on fire.

"And knocking out all the navigation on the brooms designated for our use, I believe, counts as 'causing a problem'."

"It wasn't supposed to break open. It was perfectly safe until then." Rocket spoke sulkily, glaring at Drax and playing with his pasta with his fork.

Harry glanced at Peter to share his amusement at Rocket's stubbornness with the Slytherin, but the other boy was barely conscious. Harry's humor faded as he took in the dark circles underneath the other boy's eyes, the slight pallor to his skin and the lankness of his blond hair. He glanced at the others, but they were still squabbling about Rocket and brooms (he was not going to laugh at Ron's threat to turn Rocket's fur yellow if he showed up at the flying lesson today, no matter how much the image made him want to laugh and run far away from the raccoon-boy simultaneously).

He turned to Peter, "You alright, mate?" He spoke softly, examining Peter closer.

The Slytherin immediately perked up and Harry could almost see the other boy's shields go up as he quickly started sprouting platitudes ("I'm fine, just had a lot of work yesterday and that essay for Charms took me forever…" Harry knew for a fact that Peter had finished that essay two days ago at Hermione's insistence). He hadn't been certain before, but now he was sure.

Harry recognized the shields in Peter's eyes. He had used them at his Muggle school whenever one of the teachers had deigned to notice him and ask about the bruises.

He wasn't going to let this happen to Peter. Peter had helped him, and Harry was going to return the favor, whether Peter wanted him to or not.

Harry caught Peter's eyes with his own, and he saw the other boy quickly look away, a shadow behind his eyes.

"Are you two uninjured?"

Both boys looked at the group who had silenced and were watching them. Drax, who had spoken, looked concerned, while Gamora was carefully hiding her emotions. Hermione was confused and Rocket's expression was unreadable. Ron simply looked annoyed.

Harry put on a smile and said, "We're fine."

Just then, Ron looked at the time and said, "Awesome, flying starts in a few minutes! Let's go!"

Quickly the three Gryffindors and the one Slytherin packed up and, waving goodbye to the three remaining members (and Ron firmly reminding Rocket that he was to come nowhere near the Quidditch pitch), walked off to go to their very first flying lesson.

*0*0*0*

The broom was glaring at him from the ground, Harry was sure of it.

Maybe he had been a bit too cocky with thinking of flying on the broomstick. Right now, he'd be thrilled if he didn't look like an idiot in front of Malfoy.

Peter shot him a sympathetic glance as his broom rose effortlessly to his hand upon his first command. Ron made a face at his broom as he forcefully yelled, "Up!" The broom shot up and clocked him in the nose, and the red-haired boy yelped in pain. Harry snorted in laughter and Ron muttered, "Shut up, Harry."

Hermione was actually having a lot of problems and was almost to tears, but Peter was standing next to her (almost wilting a bit under the glares of the other Slytherins), and was encouraging her to keep trying and to feel for her magic. Listening in, Harry took a deep breath and tried to reach for the intangible source of the magic within him. To his surprise, he felt a growing warmth of power in his chest and, this time, when he commanded the broom to rise, it responded.

Harry grinned brilliantly, especially after glancing over at Malfoy who had gotten it a beat after him and was sneering at Harry angrily.

Madame Hooch cleared her throat, her short gray hair sticking up in all directions as she ran her calculating eyes over the group. She strolled down the double line of first years, passing Harry just as she muttered, "Hopefully they'll be less trouble than last week."

'_Thank you, Rocket, for making the flight instructor terrified of actually letting us on the brooms.'_ Harry mockingly thought, mentally vowing to steal all the bacon the next morning before Rocket appeared for breakfast.

The teacher whirled at the end of the rows of students, her eyes flashing. "Now, once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it. And grip it tight, you don't want to be sliding off the end. When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, and then lean forward slightly and touch back down."

An almost exasperated smile crossed her face as Madame Hooch added a new line to her classic instruction, "If you feel your broom moving uncontrollably and you're still close to the ground, _do an emergency dismount._ We don't want to send our… _favorite_ Quidditch players to retrieve errant first years _again_."

A yell from the stands drew the first-years' attentions as a pair of red-haired boys waved their broomsticks cheerfully. "Hello ickle firsties-"

"-and Ronniekins!"

Ron's face reddened to a deep scarlet and he growled lowly. Madame Hooch glared at the twins and, even from the distance, the two shrank back to their seats under the flying mistress's golden glare. She whirled to the first years and snapped, "Now get on those brooms!"

Neville and Hermione exchanged worried glances as they cautiously mounted their brooms, while several arrogant Slytherins snickered at Madame Hooch's anger. Peter grinned, and then released an enormous yawn as he mounted his broom in a practiced motion.

Madame Hooch raised her whistle to her lips, but, as she was about to blow, Neville, in his nervousness, shoved off way to hard and shot upwards several feet. He yelped, terrified, as his broom wobbled and he staggered sideways in the air. Madame Hooch's sharp voice split the air, "_Emergency dismount, now, boy!"_

Neville squeaked in terror, his hands slipping off his broom handle and he slid gracelessly off the side as the broom shot sideways, and Neville fell down the 10 feet to the ground.

Directly on top of Ron.

Ron yelped, crumpling under Neville's weight and there was a nasty _crack_ as the two hit the ground.

Madame Hooch rushed to the pair, quickly separating them and helping them up. Ron looked flustered, his robes covered in dirt and mud, but whole. Neville, on the other hand, was cradling his wrist. Madame Hooch swooped down on the injury like a hawk, examining it and then hurrying the boy from the field, while talking softly to him, gesturing sharply for Ron to follow them and get checked out too.

She yelled over her shoulder, "Everyone's to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Weasley to the hospital wing. Understand? If I see or hear a report of a single broom in the air, the one riding it will find themselves out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch."

*0*0*0*

Peter winced in sympathy as the large Gryffindor fell. He had fallen off his broom before and Yondu had laughed loudly before healing his bone and shoving him back into the air. He wouldn't be surprised if Neville never wanted to ride a broom again, especially since he was being hurried off the field by Madame Hooch and not having a chance to replace the traumatic memories.

He glanced over at Harry, but the Gryffindor's eyes were locked on Malfoy, who was strolling over.

Peter grimaced. He _hated_ Malfoy. The pale Slytherin had been thrilled when the dorm sleeping arrangements had been revealed. While Malfoy was with Nott and Zabini, Peter had been placed with Crabbe and Goyle.

Peter hadn't slept for more than two hours a night in his dorm, as one of the brutes was always awake and watching him, waiting for him to fall asleep.

But he was fine.

Really.

_Totally_ fine.

But he was sure the others would overreact, so he just started taking naps. They didn't need to know the details, but he did trust them. Gamora and Rocket were always on guard, Harry was a lot more observant than he believed, Hermione and Drax were straightforward and protective.

Peter could sleep with them there. He was safe.

But the half hour at lunch hadn't really been enough and shadowy grays kept infringing on the outside of his vision. But he was fine, really.

He had to be. Yondu would never let him forget if he had to go for help just because of a little bullying. He was stronger than that.

Peter shook his head, dispelling his sleepiness a bit and bringing him back to reality.

Malfoy and Harry were facing off now, the tension snapping between them like lightning. Malfoy was smirking while tossing a small, glinting orb, filled with white smoke.

Peter blinked. _'Wasn't that Nevilee's Remembrall…?'_ He remembered the boy's bright smile when he had received it a few days ago, holding the ball close as he read his grandmother's letter.

Malfoy was playing with it contemptuously, and Peter felt a roll of anger, battling the wariness that he felt towards the leader of the two brutes. That was the quiet boy's prized possession and Malfoy was treating it like a piece of mud he had picked up.

With a sneer, Malfoy spat a last retort to Harry before gripping his broom and easily rising into the air, still tossing the ball up and down mockingly.

Hermione reached forward, grabbing Harry's sleeve, "No, Harry, you'll get in-"

Harry shook her off, his green eyes cold and angry, and he shot up into the air after the pale boy.

"-trouble…" Hermione huffed in anger, glaring up at the boys, hiding the worry she felt for Harry behind her affront, though she couldn't resist glancing back at the castle, checking that no teachers were watching.

No one was watching Peter, so he carefully mounted his broom, his adrenaline shoving back his exhaustion, leaving him bright eyed and hyper aware for the first time in days.

"Give it here, Malfoy, or I'll knock you off that broom!" Harry was yelling, his green eyes narrowed to slits on the overly smug Slytherin who was still tossing the Remembrall back and forth.

Silently rising into the air behind the other Slytherin, Peter could see Harry's eyes widen for a second before he struck.

Peter dashed forward, rolling in the air as he skimmed just over Malfoy's head, one hand snaking out and snatching the ball from the air.

Malfoy yelped, almost slipping off his broom as he instinctively ducked away from the boy swooping above him.

Peter turned sharply, ending next to Harry, with a bright grin as he showed his prize. "Mind giving this back to Neville? I think he'd miss it."

Harry smiled back brightly, taking it from his hand and muttering, "Thanks, Peter."

Malfoy snarled at them, having recovered from his near fall, but just before he was about to speak, his eyes slid behind the pair. Glancing back, Peter saw the pair of red-haired twins hovering behind them. "Well, that was some fine flying-"

"-for a firstie at least-"

"-but, Malfoy, if you land now, we won't report you-"

'-well, much."

Malfoy glared at them, and Peter felt a stab of, not fear, but wariness as his poisonous glare slid onto him. Peter suppressed his wince and gave a glare back, bolstered by Harry's presence by his side and the twins backing them up.

As the pale Slytherin sunk towards the ground, the pair turned towards the twins. The two red-haired boys grinned at them.

"We don't usually like Slytherins-"

"-but as you were protecting Harry's honor-"

"-and doing some fantastic flying-"

"-we've decided that you're pretty cool-"

"-so what do you guys say to playing some catch?"

One of the twins (Fred?) revealed a bright green tennis ball before tossing it to his twin. Peter grinned and shoved back a sudden wave of tiredness. He shifted to the side, allowing some space between him and Harry, before the Weasley threw the ball to him. Peter managed to catch it, but it felt like he was moving through water, and he had a bad feeling.

'_Maybe this wasn't the best idea…'_

Peter shook his head. '_No, I am FINE._' He tossed the ball up towards Harry and winced as the other boy stretched up high to grab it, but, surprisingly, he instinctively shifted his balance and remained stable.

Peter blinked. That was a pretty impressive move for a first-time flyer. Maybe he hadn't needed to get involved to stop Malfoy from winning.

However, while Peter was distracted, the twin who had received the ball (maybe George?) from Harry lobbed the ball towards the hovering Slytherin. Peter caught the movement in his peripheral vision, but reacted too slow, only managing to bat the ball away from his face instead of catching it. The ball fell in an arc down towards the ground and Peter cringed, embarrassed (Yondu would've had his hide for a crappy move like that).

But then, a black dart dashed towards the ground in a dive, catching the ball inches from the ground before curving up back to the sky effortlessly.

Peter's jaw dropped and, a glance revealed, the twins looked equally awestruck.

As Harry returned to their level, Peter spoke, "That was awesome! I thought you hadn't ridden a broom before!"

"I haven't," Harry shrugged.

Suddenly a sharp voice shot out from the ground, causing all four to look down. "HARRY POTTER! PETER QUILL! Never – in all my years at Hogwarts – how _dare_ you! Now _get down here this instance!" _Professor McGonagall was glaring up at them, her voice like frozen fury and Peter exchanged terrified looks with Harry.

Peter and Harry sunk obediently to the ground, landing easily before shouldering their brooms with trepidation. Professor McGonagall ran her eyes over them and then shot a glare at the Weasley twins. "Mr. Potter, please come with me," She said in an icy cold voice, nearly vibrating with fury, "Mr. Quill, I will inform your Head of House about this infringement on the rules."

Peter traded looks with Harry as the other boy hurried off and Peter was approached by Hermione, who was ranting about them "trying to break rules and your necks at the same time!"

"You know you would've been sad if we had actually broken our necks." Peter weakly grinned at her, ruffling her hair with his hand.

She glared at him, but a small grin twitched at the side of her mouth. Peter's smile broadened a bit and the pair trudged back into the castle.

*0*0*0*

"You got invited to be _what?_"

Ron's mouth (still full of half-chewed dinner) was open and Hermione wrinkled her nose at the sight. (His mouthful was gross and she really did not need to see just how much meat the red-haired boy had managed to fit in.)

Harry was still grinning uncontrollably. "I got invited to be Gryffindor's new seeker!"

Peter nodded sagely as he took another bite from his own dinner. "That was a pretty epic dive, Harry. I'm not surprised McGonagall shoved you on the Quidditch team."

"But first years never make the House teams!" Ron gushed, ignoring Peter, "You must be the youngest seeker in a century!"

"Yeah," Harry grinned happily, "Wood told me. Just don't spread it around, ok? Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Peter nodded in agreement, though Ron shot him a suspicious look. The Slytherin looked over at the Gryffindor. "You really think I'm going to tell anyone? I don't even care about Quidditch!"

Ron sat back, still eyeing Peter suspiciously. Hermione grinned at Peter sympathetically. It seemed like Ron was never going to fully get over Peter being a Slytherin, but he had to eventually, didn't he?

Thinking of the other Houses, she glanced around at their surprisingly empty spot. "Where's Rocket, Gamora, and Drax anyway? They'll be thrilled for you, Harry."

Harry and Ron shrugged helplessly, while Peter leaned against one fist with a yawn. "I think Rocket's still serving detentions for snitching a potion from Snape last week, and Gamora and Drax were going to try to convince Madame Hooch to let the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws have another try at flying, this time _without_ any potions involved."

Hermione nodded, before squinting at Peter. "How do you know?"

"A true Slytherin never reveals his sources, my dear Gryffindors." Peter said with a sly smirk. Harry and Hermione just looked at him blankly. After a moment, he broke the act with a guffaw of laughter. "Actually, I ran into Gamora in the corridor and she told me."

Hermione nodded and they were about to return to their food when a familiar, drawling voice came from behind Harry. "Having a last meal with your blood traitor and mudblood friends, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

Harry's eyes narrowed into green slits as he turned towards the blond boy. "You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you." Harry said icily. Ron was red faced next to him, and Peter was eyeing the other Slytherins with disdain and a hint of something else.

Hermione, herself, couldn't decide what she should do. She wanted to help defend Harry, one of her first friends, but she was terrified of getting in trouble by fighting….

Malfoy sneered. "I'd take you on anytime on my own." His eyes were glinting with cold fury and a hint of slyness. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What' the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose."

Peter opened his mouth, about to interject, but Ron steamrolled over him. "Of course he has. I'm his second, who's yours."

With a glance, Malfoy decided, "Crabbe. Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

And with that, the trio strolled off.

Peter immediately spoke up, "Harry, don't do it. For one, wizard duels are a big deal, not just for little things like insults. Malfoy's a pureblood, he'll know this, and he'll never actually participate in one. He just wants to set you up."

Ron sneered at Peter. "Of course it's not going to be a real wizards duel, but he couldn't back down. Malfoy probably didn't even expect him to say yes in the first place. They'll just send sparks at each other and then Harry can clock him in the nose."

Hermione interjected, "It's against the rules! You could get in real trouble, Harry, and you could lose a lot of points from Gryffindor! You already got lucky with McGonagall by not getting expelled by flying!"

"Um.." Harry tried to speak, but Peter was annoyed now, his eyes flashing at Ron.

"But if you've actually called seconds, then there is the legal loophole if Malfoy actually knows any spells that could be deadly! He's a pureblood, so he may have been taught some spells already! It's a stupid thing to do, not to mention, the chances that Malfoy will actually show up for it are minuscule!"

"He _has_ to show up –"

"Guys!" Harry spoke firmly, slapping his hands on the table to get the focus on him. "Look, Ron already agreed we'd go, so I'm kind of stuck in it." Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Harry waved him quiet. "However, Peter's got a point. Malfoy seems slippery and I could see him trying to set us up, like how he got me and Peter to go flying and then was on the ground safely before McGonagall or anyone else could see."

Harry clapped his hands together before rubbing them. "So we need a plan. Peter, can you tell when someone is going in or leaving your dorm?"

Peter tilted his head in thought before nodding. "I can hang out in the common room and then I can see who leaves and comes."

"So, Peter can wait to see if Malfoy leaves, and, when he does, Peter can come tell me and Ron, and then we'll head down to the trophy room. If Malfoy doesn't leave by 11:40, Peter, can you come tell us that he's not going? Then we don't have to leave and get caught."

Peter chewed his lip thoughtfully, before nodding gravely. "I can do that." He said, but there was a glint of something in his eyes that Hermione couldn't decipher.

Harry nodded. "Good. Then, if Malfoy doesn't come, we won't lose any points, and if he does come, we'll still be careful not to get caught, alright Hermione?"

Hermione reluctantly nodded. She didn't like it, but she knew enough about boys at this point that she knew she couldn't stop them. However, there was something about Peter that was making her uneasy. He seemed… almost scared. But this was Peter; she had never seen him back down from Malfoy before, and she couldn't imagine him ever doing it. She was seeing things, Hermione decided, and she tucked back into her meal, waiting for the other three members of their group to make their entrance.

*0*0*0*

Hermione crept down the stairs that night, tugging at her pink nightgown (her mom had picked it out and made sure it was a bit too big so she could grow into it, but Hermione was constantly trying not to trip in it). Glancing around the corner, she saw Harry and Ron in the large plush chairs near the fireplace.

Both were sitting with solemn expressions on their faces, dressed in their day robes still.

Seeing no one else around, Hermione carefully walked down, approaching the two boys. "Peter's still not here yet?" She asked softly, her eyes darting to the clock.

11:20pm.

"No, but he'll be here." Harry said, his voice allowing no argument.

Ron frowned. "Harry, we can't trust him! He's a Slytherin, he's probably in on it and will join his little snake friends tomorrow, laughing about how you didn't show up!"

Hermione took the last of the plush chairs, retorting, "Peter hates them, Ronald. He'll come, but I don't think you should go anyway! You'll lose points for Gryffindor, and I don't want Malfoy and his ilk laughing about how you're the reason that Gryffindor lost the House Cup again!"

Ron growled back, "Well, that would suit _Peter_ wouldn't it? We can't trust him! We should go now, so Malfoy can't say we bailed out!"

Harry glared at both of them. "Peter will come, and then we'll decide what to do."

Silence fell.

Twenty minute passed.

The silence of the sleeping dorm made each minute feel like an hour, and she could feel her heart actually beating in her chest. Finally, she ventured a question, "Peter… should be coming soon, right?"

Harry just nodded, and the quietness continued.

The clock chimed midnight, yet none of the three moved, staring at the long-dead coals of the fireplace.

It felt like they were holding their breaths, waiting for something happen, and if they moved or broke the silence, they would lose their chance.

As the sun rose the next morning, the three Gryffindors were still sitting, waiting, though Hermione and Ron had fallen asleep. Harry was barely still conscious, but he knew one thing that filled him with anger and hurt.

Peter hadn't come.

*0*0*0*

**And, with that, I leave you all with MY FIRST CLIFFHANGER! MWHAHAHA!**

**Anyway, please review! I really like hearing what you guys think, especially when a chapter puts up a fight like this one did.**

**Now, I should actually go do homework…**

**See ya,**

**Scales**


	9. Book 1: The Consequences

**Heyy guys, guess who put off homework to work on this chapter?**

**HAHA NOT ME, GOT YOU! (I've been juggling homework with this chapter with only a few major screw ups (I blame Chemlab).)**

**Sorry. My sense of humor is a bit skewed, hehehe…**

**Anyway, thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/whatever! I can't believe this thing has over 1000 views! I never thought it would really develop into a real story, but it's actually growing, and you all keep me going! You guys are some of my favorite people!**

**I still don't own them, but nobody can stop me from throwing them into my own mixture of worlds, mwhaha! **

**Anyway, enjoy! :D**

***0*0*0***

_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_

Book 1: The Consequences

Rocket felt like a zombie.

A half-rotted, legless, shambling zombie.

Wait, could a legless zombie shamble?

Rocket, after walking into a wall, decided his thoughts were useless anyway and that, no, he really shouldn't have woken up this morning. But he couldn't back down from a dare, especially when Drax had told him that he "did not believe that Rocket had the ability to get up earlier than the last minute before breakfast ended." Pssh, he could do anything he wanted, that bunch of idiots were just not on his level.

Which required sleeping late.

Duh.

Rocket stumbled into the Great Hall, his paws (_hands_) uselessly attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. Not that it was really doing anything besides blocking off most of his (rather unfocused and sleep-dazed) vision, but he was mostly moving from hearing and scent at this point anyway.

His friends (he still was in slight disbelief that he actually _had friends_ who didn't think he was a magical experiment to be prodded with a stick) were seated at the Hufflepuff table today. Gamora's long dark reddish hair glinted in the morning light near Drax's familiar silhouette. He was pretty sure he could see Hermione's familiar bushy head too.

Rocket bypassed his own Ravenclaw table, quickly jumping up into the seat next to Drax. He glanced at the table, but then froze.

There was no bacon.

_No bacon._

Rocket growled, drawing looks from the rest of the group. Gamora was stone-faced, Drax perplexed, Hermione confused, and Harry and Ron flashed smug smiles.

He could smell the bacon; it was nearby, he _knew_. So, now, he just had to convince these two jokers not to mess with Rocket before he had woken up fully and eaten his bacon.

Rocket reached out a sharp forepaw, making sure to flex his claws so the light glinted off them, drawing attention to the sharp points as he gestured impatiently. "Give. Me. My. Bacon." He snarled out each word, his brown eyes narrowing swiftly to slits and his teeth bared in anger.

Harry and Ron's smug looks faded as they faced the fact that Rocket didn't need magic to be terrifying. No, he had _fangs_ and _claws_ and, right now, he was not afraid to use them.

As the pair of Gryffidors placed the bacon platter back, Rocket grabbed the pieces quickly. "Idiots." He muttered, shoving a slice into his mouth.

He felt the group's attention slip away from him. Until Rocket had eaten, he was barely functional and more likely to bite than to talk, so the others had quickly learned not to bother the raccoon-boy until his fiercely twitching tail had been soothed by the influx of food.

Except Peter, of course. Damn Slytherin had no idea when to back off and seemed to find joy in baiting Rocket before he was fully awake.

When he didn't fall asleep himself, at least.

Where was Peter anyway?

He was usually there earlier than Rocket, and, according to Gamora, was usually the third or fourth of the group to arrive each morning.

Breakfast was almost over now (Rocket's _usual_ time for coming in), yet Peter was nowhere in sight.

And now that he thought about it, there was a tension in the air emerging from the two Gryffindor boys and encompassing the rest of the group in its tendrils.

Harry's eyes were almost constantly narrowed, his mouth a harsh line. Ron looked almost smug and was railing on about "I knew we couldn't trust him!" (Who the hell was he talking about anyway? Rocket couldn't make out the name through the spews of food the red-haired boy was releasing with every word as he talked with his mouth full.)

Gamora was just glaring at both boys, as was Hermione, though her glare was tainted by confusion and maybe a hint of worry. Drax was frowning at his plate, moving the food around instead of shoveling it into his mouth.

Finally, Rocket slapped his claws onto the table, drawing their eyes. "Alright, wha' is going on? Somethin' happened that has you all acting like bigger idiots than usual."

Gamora hissed, "These _fools_ thought it wise to accept a challenge to a _wizards duel_ from the Malfoy brat, though at least they didn't actually _go_."

"We should've. That bastard, Quill, betrayed us and now Malfoy's going to accuse us of being _cowards._" The red-haired boy sneered, his furious face almost matching his hair.

Drax shook his head. "I still believe that, honorably, you were obligated to go, even if it was a trap."

Gamora fisted one hand into her hair, pulling it angrily. "Drax, that is _literally_ the worst thing to do. Malfoy would've set them up to get in trouble; there was no _honor_ involved in this fake wizard's duel!"

Drax's eyes darkened as his face became a sharp frown. He growled in a rather low voice for a twelve year old, "Whether or not it was fake, they agreed to a wizards duel, and _on their honor as warriors_ they should have at least gone to the agreed place."

Gamora (with a rather odd shade on her face from red blood flushing behind green skin) snarled in response, "Honor is worthless if it gets you _killed!_"

Drax made to stand up from the table, his own face snarling with rage and his hands clenching into fists, when Rocket, grabbing an orange from a nearby platter, neatly clocking Drax in the back of the head with it, before grabbing an apple and beaming Gamora in the shoulder.

Both turned, glaring, on the raccoon-boy.

Rocket crossed his arms, his tail twitching. "Well, now that you two _idiots_ have stopped your poin'less fightin', maybe we can have a real conversation." Gamora and Drax glared at him angrily, but both sat sullenly down, pointedly looking away from each other as they maintained their stony silence. He glanced at Harry, who had been absorbing the fiery argument with narrowed, cold green eyes, before pointing imperiously at Ron, who had a smug smirk on his face. "Oi, Ronnikins, what didja say 'bout Peter earlier?"

The red-haired boy's face darkened, though his mouth kept the smug sneer, even ignoring the stupid nickname that Rocket had stolen from the twins. "The stupid Snake was supposed to come tell us if Malfoy was coming or not, but he never showed. I _knew_ we shouldn't have trusted him! He's a damned, lying Snake, just like the rest of them!"

Rocket scoffed at Ron, scanning the Slytherin table, looking for the familiar head of blond hair. "I wan' ta hear Peter's side of this story too. Where is he?"

Ron growled, "Probably doesn't want to face us first thing in the morning. I bet he's hiding out somewhere so the other Slytherins can get him breakfast before skulking off with them."

With a sharp turn of his head, Rocket snarled directly at Ron, "I didn't ask for _your_ opinion, princess. Now shut your trap, idiot!"

Drax broke out of his stony anger to murmur, "But he is not a princess…?"

Gamora, still pointedly looking away, snorted and muttered, "It's an expression, stupid oaf."

"I am not an oaf." Drax growled, glaring at her, but Gamora refused to look at him and silence quickly settled within the group, heavy and oppressing.

Rocket found his eyes drawn to Harry, who hadn't spoken. His eyes were cold, but Rocket was almost sure he could see hurt behind the anger. When the green eyes finally registered Rocket staring back, Harry simply mouthed one sentence before turning his head away and staring blankly at the table.

'He lied.'

*0*0*0*

Drax strolled out of Professor McGonagall's room, walking with the pair of Gryffindor boys. It was the first time he had not sat next to Gamora for their transfiguration class. Gamora had a real talent for the class, achieving the spells just after Hermione (who was the quickest).

Drax, on the other hand, knew his skills were not in transfiguration.

If the toothpick was a toothpick, why would he _want_ it to become a needle? If he needed a needle, why did he not just go and retrieve one or ask a house elf for one?

And while Professor McGonagall's displays had been awe-inspiring, Drax still did not see the necessity of the art.

It also didn't help that his magic liked to flow out of him in too large quantities to be easily controlled and doing fine transitions between one material and another. He had the current record for most toothpicks having accidently exploded in the first years.

Usually, Gamora and Hermione helped him try to lower the amount of magic he used, but today he could still feel the deep anger towards Gamora.

Drax lived by honor. Without honor, what did he have left? A fading father, a broken estate, a dead mother and sister.

But he had the honorable name of Shafiq, and then Gamora had dared to tell him that honor was worthless.

Deep in his mind, Drax admitted that she had been referring to the fake wizard duel and not in general, but it was too close and he had angered.

But no matter how Drax reasoned in his mind, he could not eliminate his anger. He had come so close to losing his temper and his anger was still far too prominent.

After the others left breakfast, Drax had examined the side of the table where he had sat. It had splintered and compressed under his clenching hands. His hands had been full of splinters as well, but the pain was miniscule and easily ignored.

He had wanted to fight Gamora. He could have seriously injured her and that just made him angrier at her.

So Drax had placed himself apart from Gamora, in order to hold his anger within.

He had made a total of sixteen toothpicks explode with an overload of magic before McGonagall had, in exasperation and frustration, asked in her sharp voice, "If you could rein in your temper, Mr. Shafiq, you may continue. If not, please stop distracting everyone else who is _trying_ to work!"

Drax, feeling guilty (which just made him more frustrated at Gamora, since the reason he was in trouble was that he was angry at her), murmured a quiet assent before studying his short, sturdy wand for the rest of the class, attempting to control his overpowered magic.

Now, they were finally going to lunch. But the scene could not have been more different than yesterday.

Yesterday, the group had joined together right before the Great Hall, Peter chatting happily to Rocket about something being "wicked" and "like a boss!" (Drax still had no idea what they had been talking about and, at that point, he was too confused to ask.) Gamora had been discussing Groot with Hermione, with Harry and Ron interjecting their own questions when they weren't fantasizing of flying. It had been warm and confusing and everyone had been talking over each other.

Now, it was almost icily silent. Gamora refused to look at Drax, Harry barely spoke, but was nodding along with Ron's bitter rants against Peter. Peter was nowhere to be found, Hermione kept her head down, looking scared and worried, and Rocket was constantly scanning the Great Hall, his tail twitching in agitation.

Drax knew what had been broken, but he didn't know how to fix it.

He believed that Peter had wronged the other two boys, but the blond boy had never showed a sign before that he was a "traitorous, slimy Slytherin" (as Ron kept ranting on).

Maybe something had happened?

Drax glanced at the Slytherin table, looking for their Slytherin, but he didn't see him. His brow furrowed in confusion.

"Finally noticed, didja?"

Drax turned to Rocket, who had spoken surprisingly quietly, as if he was respecting the silence (which was not normal for Rocket. At all).

"What?"

"Peter wasn't here at breakfast, and he skipped seeing Groot this omethi'. He wouldn't do that, he's fascinated by the giant lug. And now Peter's _still_ not here? Somethin's fishy."

Drax blinked. "I smell no fish."

Rocket bared his teeth in a grin/grimace. "Metaphor, idiot. It means that there's omething' weird goin' on. Maybe Quill did decide to betray the pair of hot-heads over there," he nodded to Ron and Harry, "but, if that's the case, where is he now? He has no reason to miss two meals and classes."

Drax nodded thoughtfully, ignoring the insult. (Was it even an insult at this point? Rocket literally called everyone he met an idiot at some point, at least so far.)

"So the question is," Rocket spoke louder, drawing the attention of the rest of their group, "Where's Peter?"

Ron growled, "What do we care? He betrayed us!"

Rocket snarled right back, "We don' _know_ that! All we know is he didn't show up!"

"Which is betraying us!"

"But what if he didn't?" Hermione whispered, her eyes cast down and still weirdly quiet.

Rocket touched her arm with a careful claw, a silent comfort, as Ron retorted, "How exactly would he have not betrayed us when he broke a promise and left us high and dry?"

"We are not 'high,' and, though we are dry, I do not believe that one is within Peter's ability to manipulate, until we learn the water spell at least." Drax spoke.

Ron scowled at him, glanced at the clock, and dragged Harry off without another word.

Classes were to start soon, but Drax just sat at the table, watching his friends slowly leave. Gamora was, surprisingly, the last to go. Her eyes were sightlessly fixed on the Slytherin table for a few long minutes and her hands were clenched.

Their eyes met for a moment before Gamora disappeared, and Drax felt no more anger towards her, a new emotion and thought replacing it.

'_What if he didn't?'_

*0*0*0*

Gamora was the first at dinner.

She still had free time, but she was _so angry_ that the only thing she wanted to do was practice fighting or throwing thing with her magic, but she was still trying to leave that part of her behind.

_Damn_ Ron and Harry and their stupidity!

Was Hermione the _only_ one with sense in that House? Of _course_ you don't go to a fake wizard duel with someone who is _obviously_ laying a trap!

At least Peter had gotten them to compromise and not go until he had given the signal. And he had managed to keep them out of trouble.

But Gamora's mind kept nudging her. It was not like Peter to just… not show up. Peter wasn't always the most punctual person, but he kept his promises and exuded confidence and the impression that you could rely on him.

Or… he used to.

Until this last week, where he started to look more and more nervous and timid.

She had dismissed it as her overanalyzing things, but now… Rocket had been right. Something was off. Something about this was not right and her instincts were _screaming_ that something was wrong with this whole picture.

Gamora was jerked back to reality as someone slid into the seat next to her. It was the familiar bushy-haired Gryffindor.

"Gamora," Hermione spoke quietly, her eyes downcast, "Do you really think Peter broke his promise on purpose?"

The green half-elf looked at her untouched plate. "I don't know." She spoke softly. "There's something off with all of this. No one would forgive an un-refereed wizards duel, no matter how ridiculous it was, and a pureblood wouldn't suggest it – it could ruin his family if he lost or didn't show. Peter's been weird for days and then, he just doesn't show? That's not like him…"

Hermione's eyes glinted with the familiar shine of curiosity, "How do you know all that about the duel? I've never heard of it in any book?"

'_Thanos and his obsession with being able to take down anyone and everyone in every way possible.'_ Gamora bit her tongue against her initial response, wincing, and instead stuttered, "U-uh. Books?" She cleared her throat, "Anyway, something's weird with Peter."

Hermione's eyes darkened, refocusing on the loss of one of her precious friends. She nodded, and then looked up sharply. The others were coming in now.

Ron was stomping, while Harry trailed behind, kicking the ground sulkily. Drax sat next to the pair, still not meeting Gamora's eyes. She sighed to herself. She was angry at him for agreeing with the pair of idiots over there, but her anger over that had long since fizzled.

She still remembered hearing the reports of the Death Eaters who had performed the attack on Drax's family, right after she had been sent (like a bloody package) to Ronan.

It had been sickening, and she had felt a wave of relief when she had heard that at least one of the victims had survived.

How could she fault Drax for clinging to honor after losing most of his family?

Maybe she was just jealous. Her own honor had been lost so long ago…

Gamora shook her head and scanned the room for Peter. She frowned. "Where's Peter?" She asked, turning her eyes over to Hermione. "Was he in potions?"

Hermione's brow furrowed as she shook her head. "I didn't see him. And…" Hermione trailed off.

Ron picked up her sentence, "And Malfoy was mocking us for our cowardice, since his new best friend, _Quill_, told him all about it!"

Harry spoke next, "Apparently, Pe- Quill told him about how I was 'shaking in my boots' and that I would be happy for an excuse not to go. He's apparently been working with Malfoy by pretending to be my friend, even before he met me at the station."

His eyes were downcast and cold in his anger.

Gamora wrinkled her brow, "But Peter defended all of us against Malfoy before he was even Sorted."

"All staged." Harry said listlessly.

"You can't believe any of the shit that comes from Malfoy's mouth, mate." Rocket said, eating a piece of ham. "He spews whatever he wants, hoping to make you sick. I don't believe that Peter ever liked the arrogant brat, much less would work with him."

Drax volunteered hesitantly, "I do not believe that Peter would work with the Malfoy heir. He spoke of belonging to the 'Ravagers', and they are well known to despise normal pureblood customs and regard them as 'arrogant tossers'."

Harry just shook his head, angrily clenching his hands. Ron looked almost smug, and Gamora narrowed her eyes at him. He was _so_ sure that Peter was evil just because he was a Slytherin.

She had met and been tortured by the darkest force in the world before being sent to work under Ronan. Ronan had been a Gryffindor and was still _proud_ of it as he ordered the deaths of Muggle families in honor of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Being a Slytherin didn't make Peter evil, just like being a Gryffindor didn't make Ronan just and good.

Frustrated, Gamora stood, stating, "Well, I'm _going_ to find Peter. Even if we don't see him, one of those Slytherins has got to know."

She strolled down the table, reaching the end before noticing that the entire group had followed her, except for Ron who was protesting the need to find him. Even Harry had followed.

Rocket was by her side, as was Hermione. Drax was taking the rear with Harry, and Gamora felt a surge of thankfulness. She had friends by her side, who were willing to go ask one of the members of the famously clandestine House to reveal the location of another of its members.

_That_ was a feeling worth savoring.

Gamora strode up to a young prefect who had a sneer on his face as he evaluated them with his gaze. The half-elf girl refused to let that get to her, not after suffering the glares of Thanos and Ronan. This boy was like a fly to them.

"Where is Peter Quill?" She asked, meeting his eyes head on, her own narrowing in a subtle threat.

The boy was silent for a moment before drawling, "I don't know, and I wouldn't tell you if I did."

And with that, he turned and strolled away, muttering under his breath, "What a bunch of a-holes."

Gamora spat as his back, but he was too far and too indifferent to care. She turned to find another Slytherin, but every single one of them was eyeing her with wariness, distrust, and a hand on their wands.

Sighing with defeat, she realized that she wouldn't get any information out of these Slytherins. They would either slyly avoid her question or just hex her when she approached.

This was why they needed Peter. He could talk someone into doing whatever he wanted, while she just became frustrated and wanted to threaten to hex them to get them to obey.

Before she could hex them, she still had to learn the 'official' spells though. Elf magic was a myth to most people and she didn't want to prove it otherwise and lose the advantage (though her magic was so polluted by Thanos, she doubted she could even use that part of her heritage anymore, beyond manipulating natural magic for little things).

Gamora traded looks with the group, even with Drax who still looked a bit angry at her, before her shoulders slumped in defeat and she returned to the Hufflepuff table.

Ron was laughing, saying mockingly to Gamora, "I could've told you what would happen. Snakes won't just give up one of their own, especially now that he's revealed himself."

Hermione retorted, but Gamora wasn't listening anymore as she fell into her seat, spitting at Ron before leaning on her elbows, burying her hands in her reddish hair and ignoring the food. She felt the slight tap of Rocket's tail on her side, a silent statement of support. Even Drax met her eyes, gifting her with a small smile before recalling that he was angry at her and looking away.

Ron, still smug, stood up, stretching his arms. He had already cleared away two full plates of food (his mouth was slightly terrifying sometimes). "I've got to go do something. What are your plans, Harry mate?" He said, ignoring everyone else.

Harry shrugged blankly, "Probably going to head back to Gryffindor Tower after I eat some. Maybe do some homework." He weakly grinned at Hermione at that, and she responded with a small return smile.

Ron gave a happy nod before disappearing.

Gamora quietly poked her food, not feeling very hungry. Her instincts were still going off and she couldn't get the itch of something _wrong_ out of her head.

So she was distracted when two Slytherins approached their table.

Her distraction disappeared as a low growl rumbled from Rocket's chest. He was glaring at a pair of Slytherin boys who were silently standing next to their group, watching.

They all stood, watching warily. Besides for Peter, the only interaction with the Slytherins had been Malfoy's gang, so they were tense at these new Slytherins.

The dark-skinned boy eyed them a bit disdainfully, but mostly curiously, before trading glances with his thin companion and speaking, "Hello. My name is Blaise Zabini, and this is my companion, Theodore Nott. We heard you were looking for Quill?"

Harry nodded, speaking before Gamora, "Yeah, we were. Why?"

Nott spoke in a soft voice, "You lot are his friends right? And you don't know where he is?"

Gamora nodded briskly along with the others as Harry stiffly said, "Yeah, we were. And we don't."

Zabini traded looks with Nott before finally relaying the information with a look of a man splitting from his valuables reluctantly, "He's in the hospital wing. He's been there since last night."

Gamora froze and traded looks of terror with her friends before darting out the doors, all of them trailing behind her, leaving the pair of Slytherins with a hurried, "Thanks, gotta go!"

*0*0*0*

**So… I'm sorry? Two cliffhangers in a row too much? And yeah, things kind of exploded this chapter, haha. But they're a group of rather volatile individuals who are still growing up and learning themselves and each other. **

**I hope you guys liked it! In all likelihood, the next chapter will be a return to some more fluff, haha. Hopefully you guys don't mind, but I love writing fluff and them being ridiculous. Don't get me wrong, drama and angst are fun too, but I am always smiling when I write fluff, which makes me feel good. :D**

**Please review! I promise I won't complain about Drax being a pain to write (which he is…), haha.**

**Have a great week guys!**

**See ya,**

**Scales**


	10. Book 1: The Comfort of Friends

**Ok, so it's a day (and most of another) late, but I had a really really hellish week. Two large tests in my hardest subjects, homework out the wazoo, and I'm trying to apply to an internship for the summer and figure out my schedule for next semester.**

**So yeah. My week's been hell and I just kind of want to fall over and not do anything for the next month, but I can't because HOMEWORK. Blarg, excuse my ranting. It's been a long week.**

**I still don't own them. Sad sad thing that is.**

**Anyway, it's a pretty long chapter, though only lightly betad, so please be forgiving to minor errors. But we get to the fluff I promised! And yes, fluff is amazing. Enjoy! **

***0*0*0***

_**Guardians of Hogwarts**_

Book 1: The Comfort of Friends

'_Peter was in the hospital wing'_

Harry couldn't banish the thought from his mind as he nearly tripped racing up the stairs. He wasn't quite sure of the location of the Hospital Wing but Gamora had a nearly unnatural understanding of the castle and he trusted her to find it (and probably much faster than any of the others).

He could hear the steps of the others behind him, Drax's heavy feet and the quiet clicks of Rocket's claws striking the floor with Hermione's softer feet near them.

Gamora was darting in front of them, moving effortlessly in robes.

Harry was just thankful that he had finally figured out how to run in the black drapes.

Falling flat on his face at this point would have been _really_ embarrassing.

Harry almost slid into a wall as he took a sharp corner, seeing Gamora slow and then turn into a room. He slowed to a stop, finally, and took a deep breath as he stared at the small sign stating "Hospital Wing."

'_Peter is in there… He's been in there, hurt, and I've been blaming him for ditching me…'_

Harry stepped into the room, and his eyes fell on the one occupied bed.

Peter's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and uneven, but Harry's eyes were drawn to the white bandages that covered one arm and circled his head a few times.

His stomach lurched as Peter shifted in his sleep and winced in pain.

Gamora, who had been standing back watching, moved forward, reaching towards Peter before a loud slam of the office door rang out. Gamora snatched back her arm, as if burned, sliding a mask over her concerned expression so fast that Harry was slightly awed.

Madame Pomfrey huffed a bit to herself, studying the pair who had entered her Hospital Wing, before smiling. "Hello, dears, are you Mr. Quill's friends?"

"Yeah, what happened to him?" Gamora asked as Harry nodded numbly. _'I was supposed to be his friend but I just assumed he betrayed me… I never even thought that something might have happened to him…. I don't deserve to call him my friend…'_

Madame Pomfrey looked over at the Slytherin boy, and opened her mouth to speak before the door to the hallway slammed open, revealing Drax, Rocket, and Hermione, all looking anxious (and, in Rocket's case, slightly exhausted and annoyed).

The woman glared at them. "Do _not_ slam doors in my Hospital Wing and remove your pet! It doesn't matter how much you are attached to it, animals are _not_ allowed into the Hospital Wing! And a raccoon! Did you even check to make sure the thing was healthy? Nasty things are always carrying disease."

Hermione grabbed Rocket, just barely able to hold him back as he snarled incoherently, his eyes narrowed into slits with rage. "I AM NO ANIMAL!" He roared, his fangs fully exposed in their white glory.

Drax's eyes were equally narrowed, "Rocket does not have any diseases, but nor is he our pet. He is our friend and a student here."

Pomfrey's eyes were fixed on the snarling raccoon-boy as she sniffed haughtily. "He has fur that will irritate the patients here when he sheds and I will _not_ tolerate him in my Hospital Wing."

Rocket opened his mouth to snarl and Harry was about to pipe up in defense of Rocket (he had never even found fur on his robes, if Rocket even shed, it wasn't going to be enough to hurt anyone), when another voice spoke up. "Maybe that's true, but his fur doesn't bother me, Madame Pomfrey, and I'm the only patient here, so there's no reason Rocket can't come in. The Hospital Wing must be cleaned after every patient anyway, otherwise it wouldn't be so sparkling clean, right? So no harm in it."

Everyone turned to look and saw Peter now sitting up, his bright eyes shining with sincerity as he spoke reasonably. Harry could make out the glint of mischief in them and Peter shot them all a grin.

"Peter! You idiot!" Rocket spoke, sounding happy and annoyed at the same time (Harry hadn't known that combination was possible), slipping from Hermione's grasp and sliding around the disgruntled mediwitch with a disdainful twitch of his tail.

Hermione and Drax also moved around her, converging on Peter's bed and ignoring the mediwitch.

"Peter! Are you ok?" Hermione asked, her eyes filled with worry. "What _happened?_"

"Are you healed, friend Peter?" Drax questioned, his hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out but was worried that he'd hurt him.

Peter grinned, itching his wrapped arm absentmindedly. "I'm fine guys, I was just stupid."

"No, you are _not_ getting away with that, Peter Quill, not this time." Gamora growled. "Give us a straight answer, _what happened?"_

Peter matched glares with Gamora until he grimaced. He opened his mouth just as Pomfrey spoke, her voice still angry. "I shall forgive the thing with the raccoon just this once, Mr. Quill. As I was going to say, Mr. Quill suffered a bad concussion, a broken right arm, several cracked and almost broken ribs, and an almost severe case of sleep deprivation. He's _lucky_ I am letting him go with having Skelegrow and a dreamless-sleep potion for the past day. He is staying for another night for observation, though I'd prefer to keep him here longer…"

Peter glared at her, a pout forming on his lips as he silently begged not to be held in here longer.

She sighed gustily, "But I know that look and he'll be fighting his own way out soon, so he'll be released soon." She glared at the rest of the group, her eyes focusing mostly on Rocket, who silently bared his teeth in challenge. "Now, I'm retiring to my office, don't make too much noise and keep the raccoon out next time you come visit him."

She left with a swish of her cloak and Rocket spat in his direction, his tail twitching back and forth in agitation. "I am _not_ a pet." He muttered.

"We know." The group chimed in unison, Peter grinning almost fondly at them. Harry could feel his lips pulling into a small grin, his first all day. Despite the horrible, tugging guilt, he couldn't help but feel warmth in him. Peter was still his friend, Gamora and Drax seemed to have settled their fight, at least temporarily, and Peter looked mostly healed.

Peter grinned at them. "Woman wouldn't stop hovering until I finally took her stupid potions. They tasted awful." He grimaced in remembrance and Gamora smacked him on the back of the head.

"Maybe that'll teach you next time to _not_ be an idiot and get back up next time you get into a fight." She glared at him. "I can read the placement of the wounds, Peter. You were in a fight and outnumbered and you got beaten _badly_. Now tell us, _what happened?_"

*0*0*0*

Peter sighed, admitting to himself that, no, he really couldn't get out of an explanation this time. They were all staring, waiting for an answer, and no amount of squirming was going to get him out of this.

Sick of his silence and still annoyed at being called a pet, Rocket grumbled, "Seriously, just tell us already, ya idiot."

Peter opened his mouth to spin a tale of epic proportions, but then paused as he took in Gamora's carefully calm expression (he suspected she may want to murder his assailants underneath that mask, judging by the twitching of her fingers). Hermione and Drax's eyes were beseeching him (Drax doing puppy-dog eyes was actually slightly disturbing), and Rocket and Harry's concern (Rocket's hidden under careful layers of annoyance and indifference that no one in the group believed anymore).

Finally, Peter's shoulder slumped and he spoke. "Fine, I'll tell you, but no interrupting until the end, alright?" If he stopped, he may not have the guts to keep going. His instincts were still screaming to hide his weakness, but _these were his friends._ They had come and found him and were all looking like they'd cheerfully have a bonfire with his attackers as the wood.

"I, er, haven't been fitting in well to the Slytherin dorm. I'm with those two brutes of Malfoy's and they take shifts so one is always awake and I _can't_ sleep, otherwise they'll poison me or attack me or steal my stuff or something. And I'm not _quite_ as skilled at the security spells as I convinced my guardian that I was, and I can't get it to work, so I have to stay awake instead." Peter breathed deeply, clenching his fists as he remembered the long sleepless nights, flinching at every noise and every shadow from the other beds, his wand clenched in his fist as he fought the gray shadows that attempted to ensnare him into sleep.

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes (when did he close them..?) and saw Hermione watching him, her eyes soft. "So that's why you were always catnapping at meals."

"And why you have started sleeping in class." Drax added in, with Harry nodding along.

Peter ran his hand through his hair. "I felt safer with you guys." He admitted. "You would watch my back so I could actually sleep."

"We would've done that voluntarily, if you had just told us." Harry spoke softly. "We would've tried to help."

Peter just sat silently. He knew they would've helped, but… It was his problem. His friends didn't need it dumped on them. And he had been handling it… Though maybe he could've handled it better, probably by telling them _before_ it had escalated to a point where he was in the Hospital Wing.

Rocket jumped up onto the bed, sitting on the edge with his tail twitching, just brushing Peter's side once. "So what made it go from no sleeping, to.. _this?" _He spoke gruffly, but Peter felt grateful for the quiet support from the tail softly brushing his bruised side all the same.

Glancing at his friends, Peter continued, "It's been getting worse since the first week, but after the whole flying and Remembrall thing… Well, Malfoy wasn't happy with me and his cronies were thrilled to express that for him, since he's not skilled enough magically to actually cause any damage. It took them a while to catch me." He snorted, "They were starting to call it 'Quill Hunting'. Come on, couldn't they at least give it a good name? I mean, really, I think a game devoted to catching _me_ should have a much cooler name!"

Gamora rubbed her hand over her face. "At least his stupidity wasn't effected." She said wryly as Peter grinned sheepishly.

Rocket snorted. "I don't think he could ever not be an idiot. But at least he's not more of an idiot now."

"Geez Rocket, tell me how you really feel." Peter teased back, feeling his spirits lighten.

Drax spoke solemnly, "I am glad you are recovering, Peter, and I assure you that this will not be repeated." His voice was almost a growl. "Nobody hurts my friends."

Peter blinked, already shaking his head when he saw the rest of his friends (even Hermione, Ms. Must-Always-Obey-The-Rules! Apparently that ended once her friends started getting hurt…) nodding along. "Guys, it's fine, I can handle it, really!"

He could _feel_ the dirty looks they were pointing at him, but Harry was the only one who spoke. "_Really_, Peter? You think we're going to sit back and watch this happen again eventually? What about next time we squabble with Malfoy? Will you ever be able to sleep in your dorm again?"

"Sleep deprivation is a real problem," Hermione chimed in. "It's not something to be taken lightly."

Harry shook his head, his eyes still clouded from guilt. "We're going to make sure it doesn't happen again." He promised, before moving towards the door purposefully.

Drax's hand caught Harry's shoulder before he moved too far though. "Wait, Harry. One of us should wait with Peter."

"Ok, so you stay."

Gamora exchanged glances with Peter, and Peter mentally winced. This was not going to be fun for any of them if he was right about their plan…

The half-elf girl sighed. "Harry, the only way to fix this is to go to the Head of House of the Slytherins, Professor Snape. You _know_ Snape hates you. Your presence will only harm our efforts to convince him and he'll dismiss us right away if he thinks the idea came from you."

Drax was nodding quietly, not meeting Gamora's eyes when she glanced at him for support. He gently touched Harry's shoulder again. "It is a mark of a good warrior that he knows when to strike and when to hide in the shadows to await his opportunity to break the other's neck. This is a time to stay in the shadows."

Harry was wordlessly shaking his head, his clenched fists trembling, until he burst out, "I have to go too! I can help and Peter's my friend too." His voice caught a bit on the word 'friend,' and Peter blinked in surprise. He hadn't realized that Harry felt _that_ guilty. And for what? He hadn't been the one to beat him up.

Peter knew the others were right though, so he (with a small sting of guilt) faked a yawn (it was totally fake…. Partially, at least), and spoke, "Actually, could you stay, Harry? I'd rather not have to take another of Pomfrey's potions to go to sleep…"

Harry visibly wavered, before, with a sigh, he gave in with a small nod.

Gamora grinned and nodded approvingly and disappeared out the door, with Drax and Hermione on her heels, Hermione's parting comment of "I'm sure he'll agree with our suggestion, Harry," earning a slight shake of the head from Peter.

Rocket waited a second longer, his back claws lazily swinging back and forth as he perched on the bed. Then he grinned with all his teeth, his eyes glinting with mischief and dark enjoyment. "This is going to be _fun_." He said, and Peter just blinked.

Rocket jumped off the bed and paused before he grabbed his tail, and tugged a bunch of hairs off, before tossing them on a couple of the other Hospital Wing beds.

Peter was still snickering after the raccoon-boy disappeared out the doorway after the others.

Peter glanced at Harry, smiling at the other boy, but Harry's stormy eyes didn't lighten. Peter frowned and opened his mouth to speak when the door banged open.

"Harry! What're you doing with this traitor?!"

Ron's face was flushed red and his eyes were blazing. Harry blinked in surprise before speaking, "Ron, Peter was here, he didn't betray us. He got beaten up and was trapped up here."

Ron blinked, once, twice, before he stood straighter and adopted a confused expression. "Oh… so Peter's not an evil betraying Snake?"

Peter gazed at the pair, seeing Harry squirming in guilt and avoiding his gaze and Ron looking confused and a bit disappointed.

"Nope," Harry said, "Peter's still our friend…"

Ron shuffled his feet awkwardly in the silence and rubbed the back of his head, his ears bright cherry red. "I, er, was actually in the middle of something, so I'm just going to…" and he ran out the door before Peter or Harry could say anything.

A beat of silence.

"Well, that was awkward."

Harry snorted in laughter before falling silent, but Peter managed to catch his eyes with his own before he looked away.

"Harry, what's up? You've been avoiding looking me in the eye since you've come in."

Harry was fiddling with his hands, not speaking, but Peter waited. He wasn't very patient, but he knew how to read people and Harry was going to break in 5… 4…. 3….

Harry broke, the quiet words spilling out like water, "I blamed you. When you didn't come, I was angry and I blamed you. I thought you betrayed me and, all that time, you were _here_, unconscious and injured and I was _angry_ at you."

The black haired boy fell silent after his sudden splurge, his fingers locked in death grips on each other as he sat heavily on the other bed (on top of a few of Rocket's hairs, but Peter didn't think that Harry really would care…).

Peter eyed Harry. "Goddamn it, I was two off…" He muttered, before he met Harry's confused eyes. "Got it all off your chest? Good. I don't blame you and I forgive you for any random guilt you may have remaining," Peter said the last part in a fake, overly grandiose voice.

Harry blinked. "What?"

Peter sighed gustily. "I don't blame you, Harry. We've known each other for, what, a few weeks? It makes sense that you'd be a bit suspicious of me not showing up. Plus, I was hiding my issues from you guys, so you had no reason to think something was wrong."

Harry still looked unsure, and Peter softened his voice. "I don't blame you, Harry. I really don't."

The other boy hesitantly smiled and Peter grinned back before a very real yawn interrupted him. He blinked sleepily. Now that everything was settled, he could feel exhaustion tugging at his bones and his struggles against it were weakening…

Peter felt a hand clasp his shoulder and Harry's voice say, "Go to sleep, Peter. I'll keep watch."

With a last sigh, Peter let himself slip into the darkness of the first easy sleep he'd had in several weeks.

*0*0*0*

"No."

Hermione was shaking in her shoes as she faced Snape's desk.

Oh it was easy to stand and nod along with her friends when they were talking about stopping Peter from getting bullied again, but once they were actually here…

They weren't going after the boys (yet at least; Rocket had a dark glint in his eyes which made Hermione actually feel pity for the Slytherin bullies). Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to do anything but follow Malfoy's orders and Malfoy already had a feud going against Harry and Peter (and the rest of them by default).

No, they were approaching the head honcho for the Snakes: Professor Snape himself.

And it was not going well.

"But, Professor-"

"I said no, Ms. Galonlithe. And that is my final answer. I shall not move the Slytherins just to accommodate one troublemaker who picks fights with the other, _proper_ Slytherins and then blames them when he loses."

Hermione could feel her blood heat and her face flush in anger. Ok, Peter maybe was a bit of a troublemaker, but he hadn't picked that fight! And the dark circles under his eyes were not faked.

Gamora's fists were clenched so tight that the normally green skin was stretched thin and white, while Drax was almost trembling with suppressed anger. Rocket's tail was twitching madly (which would have made Hermione giggle if she wasn't so angry at Snape at the moment), and his eyes were narrowed as he tried to come up with an angle that would win them the argument.

It hit Hermione then. She felt a small smile creep up her lips. She was no Peter, talking his way out of trouble with his fine words, but she knew the right approach for this one. Her muggle father had faced problems at work once and he had complained about it many times at home.

"_I could not believe the audacity of this woman, she kept implying that she'd use my colleagues or boss in order to get around me if I didn't bow right down to her. She hated taking no for an answer…"_

Hermione cleared her throat before stepping forward hesitantly, her confidence wavering. But she saw her friends standing with her and she took strength from that. She needed to do this to protect her friends, and after the terror of watching their group falling apart around Peter's apparent betrayal and Gamora and Drax's argument (which they had apparently put aside for now), she would do _anything_ to keep them together and safe.

They were her friends and she'd protect them.

She cleared her throat, "Professor, if you can't fix this problem, we'll have to take it to Professor McGonagall."

Snape turned towards her, his eyes like ice on hers. She was almost trembling and part of her was screaming _'This is a teacher! I can't argue with a TEACHER!'_ But Hermione shoved that part of her back.

She continued, her voice carefully innocent, "You see, sir, we're required to report any cases of bullying we see back to Professor McGonagall, who said that she'd personally look into them if the teacher witnessing it wouldn't. When she hears the severity of Peter's injuries, I'm sure she'll take action…."

The potions professor stood suddenly, spooking Hermione a few steps back until she almost ran into Drax and Rocket. Snape stared at them coldly, his eyes blazing in icy fury. "There is no need to bother Professor McGonagall, Ms. Granger, I can handle all the issues within my own House. I shall have Mr. Quill switch dorm rooms with Mr. Malfoy. Now if that's settled, will you all _get out of my office?_"

Hermione fled, her courage spent, but her grin still firmly in place. The four of them spilled out of the office, smiling in victory.

Gamora clapped Hermione on the back. "Nicely done, Hermione! I was really worried we wouldn't be able to convince him to listen to us."

"Where'd you learn how to do that?" Rocket asked as Drax nodded.

"My dad had someone in his office once who tried to do the same thing." Hermione explained. Everyone remained looking blankly at her. Hermione blinked at them, unsure whether she should try to explain further or just ponder over the fact that her friends apparently didn't understand what an 'office' was…

Drax cleared his throat. "Shall we return to Peter now? It will be curfew soon and we will not have another chance tonight."

The others nodded but Rocket spoke up, "I'll meet ya there; I need to look into somethin' real quick," before he disappeared into the castle.

Hermione exchanged confused looks with Drax, before, once again, following Gamora's lead into the confusing twists and turns of the castle.

*0*0*0*

Groot ambled towards the Hospital Wing, the small raccoon-boy perched on his shoulder. He had been wandering out of the Herbology area (he wasn't _really_ supposed to, but, really, Herbology classes got pretty boring when the same thing was taught all the time and Groot was patient, but not that patient), when he had found Rocket racing down the halls from the seventh floor, practically squealing about finding "that stupid door!"

Groot had asked what Rocket was excited about, but the raccoon-boy had just scrambled up to his shoulder, perching up there like a little bird, chattering about Peter being in the Hospital Wing and how he had "found the perfect spot for the idiot to sleep!"

The giant tree creature was curious about this, so he had continued towards the Hospital Wing easily, talking with Rocket in low "I am Groot"s.

When they arrived, Gamora was perched on one of the beds, facing the door with a cool, calculating glint in her eye to cover her exhaustion from the long day. Drax was sitting with Hermione on the floor, leaning against Peter's bed and talking with low voices with occasional yawns, with Harry sitting on the bed next to Peter's, watching the blond boy quietly, his green eyes still slightly subdued.

Rocket leaped from Groot's shoulder onto one of the open beds, gleefully leaving almost-distinguishable dirty claw marks on the clean sheets.

His voice was like a whip crack in the previously silent room. "Come on, ya idiots! I found the perfect spot!" He glanced at Peter, who had woken and was blinking blearily up at the disproportionate duo, and continued, "We're gonna break ya out of here and take you somewhere better."

Peter woke up quickly. "I am on board with this." He grinned before sitting up carefully.

The others stood up and oriented themselves as Peter stood up slowly, Harry steadying him as Peter balanced himself for the first time in a full day.

"So, where are we going, raccoon-boy? And, hi Groot." Gamora yawned.

Rocket grinned. "Somewhere that no one can find us."

*0*0*0*

"Rocket, we are in front of a blank wall."

"I can see that, Drax, gimme a sec."

Rocket strolled up and down the hallway three times, and Groot smiled. He knew what the raccoon-boy doing, but the others were clearly confused. And semi-exhausted, especially Peter, who was still blinking sleepily. They had essentially walked out of the Hospital Wing (the mediwitch was still annoyed at them apparently), but Peter had been humming what he called the "Mission Impossible" theme song the entire time.

Groot didn't really understand what Peter had meant with the song, but it was a fun tune anyway.

Gamora jumped suddenly, her eyes wide. "A door just appeared!" She said, confused, and Hermione nearly squealed in excitement.

"Oh my god, it's the Room of Requirement, I didn't think it was real!" Hermione was nearly dancing in excitement, and the group, wide eyed (except for a very smug Rocket and a very amused Groot), entered the room.

The room was warm and dim. The floor sunk beneath their feet like it was a mattress itself and it was immensely soft. Soft blankets of muted colors were piled along the walls, except for one which was home to a large fireplace with a low, crackling fire inside it. Pillows were scattered everywhere, and, walking into the room itself was enough to make them all feel more sleepy.

Peter looked at it, curiously. "I'd ask how you know about it, but," he yawned, "I really need to sleep and this looks _so _comfortable…"

The others murmured agreement before moving to pull blankets and pillows into the center of the room, the mattress floor making them stumble several times.

Hermione mumbled, "We should be-" she yawned, "-going back to the dorms…"

"They won't miss us." Gamora shrugged as she created an almost nest to her liking.

Groot watched in amusement as the six children created a nest in the center of the room and then curled into it. They hadn't realized it, but they had essentially created one large bed for themselves and as they lay down, they cuddled together.

It wasn't perfect. Gamora nearly punched Drax for hitting her with his foot when she hadn't been paying attention to him, but soon they were all snuggled into a warm pile of little kids who hadn't had enough warmth in their lives.

Groot rested, his branches and roots taking hold of the wall as he watched over the kids and the door, keeping watch so they could finally sleep peacefully and safely.

*0*0*0*

**PUPPY PILES ARE AWESOME, ok? **

**I promised fluff and fluff is equivalent to puppy piles. And apparently angsty guilt. But that's Harry's fault. Really.**

**I'm sorry, I really wanted them cuddling together. Most of them are rather emotionally damaged and now they have people they can trust. Wanting physical affection is reasonable and (for any slightly dirty minded people out there), they're eleven (or around). This is just snuggling and cuteness, I assure you.**

**Anyway, I desperately need to get back to my mounds and mounds of homework.**

**Please review and let's all hope I don't drown under my homework load. :D**

**See ya,**

**Scales **


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